


Little Things

by aminmela



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 96,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminmela/pseuds/aminmela
Summary: Set after the events of the Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. There are so many theories about the skin-changers, Beorn's people. This is my interpretation, told through the eyes of a young Beorning lady, Ildrith.Legolas and Gimli come across an injured young woman on the road back to Mirkwood. What follows is an embarassingly romanticized tale of love, adventure, friendship and loyalty. I believe this is what is called a 'slow-burn', the rating is for later.The ring has been destroyed, but darkness permeates the land still, often hiding in the most unexpected places. As many theories as there are about the Beornings, there are more still about what happened in Mirkwood after the ring was destroyed. The forest, as well as its prince hold a special place in my heart, thus I share with you my thoughts on what happened in Mirkwood during the fourth age.





	1. A Beginning

Autumn came early to the Mountains, icy wind rattled dying leaves and whirled in near constant spirals along the freezing ground. The last trickles of summer rain fought to make their way into the streams and rivers that would eventually stand still for winter.  
One icy tendril dribbled slowly down the forested hill, it ran straight and true down a path laid long ago by run-off from an earlier storm or flood. The water ran fast to the edge of a small cliff, and ran red into the river below. There were no birds to fall silent as the bear limped through the undergrowth. She called out mournfully, the gash in her belly dropped fresh blood as she made her way up the hill. Her massive claws scraped weakly against the ground, leaving a distinct trail that lead down into the valley where four orcs lay slain, their black blood would foul the water for many miles downstream.  
The bear cried out one last time and then collapsed beneath a leafy evergreen. Her woeful cries grew sharper, until they were replaced completely by the shrill screams of a young woman. She clutched her arm, and whimpered. She had been tracking the orcs for days before she finally caught them. Her anger boiled so strong that she slay the first before his friends could even draw their weapons. But then she was outnumbered, in her rage, she dropped her guard. One orc had managed to slip beneath her, and struck her with a fierce blow that ran to the bone of her forelimb, and sliced easily through the softer skin of her midriff.  
The cold instantly bit into her exposed flesh, and she hissed as pain bubbled to the surface from many smaller cuts and bruises. Swiftly, she undid the tie around her ankle that kept her human clothes safe while she was changed. She ripped the already shortened hem of the cotton dress, and pressed the thick material into her stomach wound. Almost immediately, the cloth was stained through. Spots started to form before her eyes and she shook her head. There was no poison on the blade, thank Eru, but she had lost a substantial amount of blood trying to drag herself back to where she had left her camp. She was still a couple of hundred metres from safety, so she wracked her brain for some temporary solution.  
The cold would help, but lowering her core body temperature to the point where haemostasis would be effective in such a deep wound would essentially leave her braindead, and she would bleed out long before that.  
She shook her head again, the blood loss was filling her head with cotton wool. She began scooping up handfuls of frozen earth. She slathered it on her angry red skin just beneath the wound, perhaps the cold would help reduce inflammation? She paused mid-slather. Nettle leaves! She glanced around hopefully, and then slumped back down, boiled nettle leaves. She whimpered again. How could she let herself get into such a mess?  
She slowly got to her feet, it began to dawn on her that protection from the cold was not as essential as stopping the bleeding. She rolled her dress into a sausage shaped bundle, and then hissed as she pressed it firmly into her wound. Her vision darkened, and a ringing in her ears blotted out the forest for a moment. She grit her teeth and clung desperately to the tree as she pulled herself upright.  
The world swam around for a few seconds, but she was able to maintain consciousness and remain upright. Small victories. That was all it would take. There were no suitable branches that she could use as a crutch, so she steeled her grip on the temporary stent, and started walking up the hill once more.  
Step by step she made progress, her camp was in site when a wave of nausea and vertigo made her stop. Her breathing was shallow and jagged, the healer in her was screaming, but there was nothing she could do. If she could just reach her camp, her supplies might save her.  
There were herbs and poultices she prepared just this morning when she knew she was going to catch them. This solo mission was not meant to be suicidal, so she tried to be prepared if the fighting went ill. But she was not battle tested, she had healed wounds worse than this, and she found herself gaining new respect for the soldiers who suffered silently as she worked.  
Just at the edge of her camp, her vision started to fade again. Sounds grew meaningless, until the only thing she was aware of was her breath scraping painfully in and out of her lungs. She imagined that she could even follow the beating of her heart. Slow and steady. Mesmerised though she was, her feet stumbled into the camp. She managed to grab a blanket, and pull it around herself. But when she turned to retrieve her medicine bag, the spots in her vision started to expand, until the last thing she knew was a jolt of pain as her knees hit the ground.  
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Her return to consciousness was slow, and painful. Even so, her first emotion was disbelief. She should not be alive. Her second was hope, her left arm appeared to be incapacitated, but her right flailed about as she attempted to sit up and start tending to her injuries. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was, but she wasn’t about to waste time lying around thinking about that.  
She forced her eyes to open, they felt lined with lead, but she succeeded. They opened onto a stormy silver sky, which quickly morphed into the shape of two concerned eyes. She squeaked, and bounced upright. The eyes widened, and quickly moved back. Firm hands held her shoulders, forcing her to slump back down. She hissed, pain shot down her left arm, and her side felt hot. She focused on her breathing for a time, in and out, nice and steady. Her stomach burned when she twisted to get a better look at her possible saviour.  
The first thing she noticed was his pointed ears and long silver-blond hair. Then he turned back to face her, a pillow of sorts in his hand, and she got a better look at the face surrounding those striking eyes. He was definitely elvish, with a slender nose and angular facial structure. No wonder I am alive she thought. She wanted to thank him, but when she moved her mouth, it felt like there was a knife in her joints. Tears of pain sprang to her eyes and she tried to wipe them away before he noticed. That was when she re-noticed her left arm, it was tightly bound against her side. She wriggled her fingers, and was relieved that the motion brought no pain. Craning her neck, she could see a thick bulge beneath her shirt, so the elf had taken care of her gash too. She sighed, and leant back, surprised to find that the elf had tucked the pillow he carried beneath her head.  
“How do you feel?” he asked gently.  
She tried once more to open her mouth, but the pain was too intense to open it too far. “Sore” she tried to say through closed teeth, “but grateful.” A traitor tear escaped and began to slide down her cheek. The elf caught it with a damp cloth, carefully wiping under her eyes on either side in case any more decided to break rank.  
“You are very lucky, I’m not sure we could have done much if not for the supplies we took from your camp.”  
She nodded and closed her eyes, “Thank you.” she mumbled, “How,” she cringed as her muscles stretched to encompass the ‘H’, “did you find me?”  
“I will explain everything when you are a bit stronger. Can you manage a drink?”  
She nodded, her body felt battered, but not broken. She might even attempt to sit up, if not for her spinning head.  
The elf hurried away and returned quickly with a tall mug. Herbal scents wafted from the container as she inhaled. Her head was too fuzzy to properly identify all the contents, but she knew there was some valerian in the mix. The elf gently helped support her back as she sat up to drink. The liquid was cold, and burned her throat as she swallowed. It would take a few minutes for that sedative to take effect, so she settled back into a comfortable position, and appraised her helper as he took the cup and set it on the floor by the tent’s entrance.  
She cleared her throat to get his attention, he looked round quickly, anxiety furrowing his dark brows.  
He came closer so she didn’t have to speak too loudly.  
“What is your name?” she whispered.  
“Legolas,” he answered, “What is your name?”  
She managed a weak smile, “Ildrith. It is nice to meet you Legolas, thank you for taking care of me.”  
Whether it was the sedative, or her body’s natural limit being reached, she suddenly found herself drifting closer to sleep. Legolas smiled and stood up straight, “Rest now, I will stay close.”  
Ildrith nodded, and closed her eyes. Sleep came soon after.  
Legolas sighed, and rubbed a hand across his forehead. He leant over the girl and pulled the blanket up so that it covered her arms once more.  
He ducked his head and exited the tent. Gimli was reclined next to their fire, smoking a pipe and idly kicking at the burning logs. He sat up quickly when he saw his friend.  
“How is she?” he grumbled softly.  
Legolas frowned, “Much better than she should be. She lost so much blood, I wasn’t sure we would be able to help.”  
“Aye,” said the dwarf, he took a lengthy pull from the pipe and blew the smoke into the fire. “Aye, but that’s good news.”  
Legolas smiled grimly and took a seat opposite him, “What did you find?”  
Gimli lowered the pipe, and shook his head. “I followed the lass’s blood all the way to the river,” he gestured to the east. He pursed his lips and put the pipe to his lips, buying time for thought. Legolas waited patiently, anxiety playing at his heart.  
“I am not sure exac’ly wha’ I found…” he said, his accent thickening as he became lost deeper in thought. Legolas’s eyebrows raised, but still he waited. “There were four dead orcs,” he turned his head and spat in the dirt, “down in the riverbed.”  
Legolas frowned, “Orcs?”  
Gimli nodded, “Aye, but that is no’ what is troubling me.” He pulled on the pipe and sighed, letting the smoke blow down into his beard. “Those orcs were slaughtered alright, but there were other tracks their lad. Something else killed them I thought, I could no’ see any trace of the lass down there. Though I followed the blood to its source.” Legolas looked as though he wanted to ask a question, but Gimli held up a hand, “Just listen. I thought this odd too, so I followed the tracks, aye for tracks there were, righ’ up to a pool of blood beneath one of these grea’ big trees. But laddie, this is where I am stuck, the tracks became hers, either tha’, or she battled with the same creature who killed those wretches. Battled and won, and ate the whole carcass too.”  
“I’m not sure I follow?” said Legolas.  
“Nor am I.” He said with a sigh.  
Legolas’s frown deepened, “What sort of tracks?”  
Gimli shrugged, “Looked like a bear to me.”  
“A bear!” Legolas exclaimed, “Are you sure?”  
“Aye, why? What is it?”  
Legolas shook his head, “I am not sure, but there are stories.”


	2. Honey and Tea

A few more times Ildrith regained consciousness. Each time, she felt a little better, and Legolas was there to help her sit up and feed her warm broth, or a cold medicine.  
After a while, she felt stronger. Strong enough that she could actually take note of her surroundings. She was in her own tent, but there were two strange packs piled with her own in the corner. It was day outside, early morning by the feel of the sun. She could feel every injury acutely, but they were no longer suffocating her. Sitting up, she managed to get her feet beneath her. She appeared to be wearing socks, and one of her more conservative shirts with leggings. She frowned and picked at the thread, filing questions away for later. She carefully crossed her legs and pulled up her shirt. It would rise no higher than her ribs however, because of the strapping on her arm, but through some creative flexibility, she was able to see the edge of her wound. It was covered by a poultice, and from what she could see it wouldn’t need to be changed anytime soon.  
Using her right arm as a brace she lifted herself onto her feet. Her head swum dangerously for a moment, but it soon righted itself, and she felt her stomach growl. Giggling she straightened up and stretched carefully, joints popped and clicked, and the wound in her stomach protested sharply, but all in all she felt well.  
The sun was bright as she stepped out into the world. Blinking away the glare, she realised that this was the same camp she had made before. She looked down, and saw a campfire, with a very startled, very red-haired dwarf lounging nearby.  
Ildrith felt her mouth protest as she stretched it into a smile, she opened her mouth very slightly and mumbled out a hello.  
The dwarf jumped to his feet, “Lass, you shouldn’t be out of bed!”  
Ildrith held up her hand and lowered herself to the ground next to the fire, “I’m alright. I just wanted to see if I could.” The ground was cold, and the motion jarred her wound, but just the smell of the cool forest air did wonders for clearing her mind. She inhaled deeply and crossed her legs.  
She looked up at the dwarf, his pipe-hand was extended towards her and she wandered how awkward her descent must have looked. She tried to smile reassuringly, he grinned half-heartedly back at her, and then took his seat once more. He puffed rapidly at his pipe for a time and Ildrith chuckled.  
“What is your name?” she asked softly, relieved to find that her jaw was not quite as frozen as it had been before.  
The dwarf paused his puffing and grunted, “Gimli.”  
Ildrith smiled, “I am Ildrith. It’s very nice to meet you Gimli.” She paused, closing her eyes as she fought back the pain in her jaw. “I want to thank you for rescuing me.”  
Gimli sighed, “T’wasn’t me lass. It was the elf who did all the saving. Good thing too, you were in pretty bad shape.” She managed to look through all the red fuzz, and see into his eyes, they were small and dark, and very suspicious.  
A real sight she must have been to find, bloodied and naked in the middle of the woods. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the embarrassing images that exploded in her mind.  
“Where is Legolas?” she asked, just as Gimli lowered his pipe and looked up into the woods behind her.  
Gimli ignored her question, and she refrained from twisting, satisfied that it must be the elf in question returning from some other quest. She satisfied her curiosity by watching Gimli’s expression. It went from relief, to expectant, and then he nodded and looked at the ground. She wondered if she had missed some silent exchange.  
She prepared her muscles for a bright smile, which she aimed at Legolas as soon as he stepped into her view. He knelt before her, his eyes full of concern.  
“You shouldn’t be out here.” He said, and she let her smile fall away.  
“I am feeling much better, thanks to you.” Her jaw was definitely loosening, the more she spoke the wider she could open it.  
“You still shouldn’t be out of bed yet. You lost a lot of blood.”  
Ildrith sighed, “I know, but I have herbs that will help speed my recovery. All I need right now is a hearty meal, and some tea.” As if to emphasise this point, her stomach growled loudly, she covered it with a hand. Legolas smiled wryly and stood back up.  
“Alright, I am sure Gimli could do with a spot of breakfast too.”  
“Aye,” said the dwarf.  
Ildrith rolled her feet beneath her, “Please let me help. I have dried fruit, and honey in my pack.”  
Legolas quickly leant over her and placed firm hands on her shoulders, “No, you sit here please. I won’t be long.”  
Ildrith frowned, but let it slide, he knew where to get her supplies from at least. And if she was perfectly honest, the act of standing had brought on a wave of nausea that she was currently fighting. Her jaw protested loudly, but she ground her teeth until the sensation passed, and she realised that her ears were ringing. She brought her hand to her head, and wiped away the beads of sweat that were forming on her hairline.  
Legolas reappeared, arms laden with treats. Ildrith practically drooled at the sight of her honey jar. He first went over to Gimli, and handed him some form of leaf bundle. She tried to peer round the elf and see what it became, but Legolas blocked her view and soon came to kneel before her. She bit her lip, not wanting to seem greedy, and then selected the honey.  
Legolas shifted, but didn’t move very far away. He began to unwrap a similar leaf bundle to that which Gimli held, and when the leaves fell away they revealed a small square of biscuit.  
Ildrith eyed it curiously, and then clutched her honey avidly. She soon realised however, that her left arm was quite useless, and she lacked the strength to unscrew the lid.  
She looked over at Legolas helplessly, and found him already waiting for her to hand it to him. She chuckled and handed it over.  
He popped off the lid and put it on his knee, keeping it safe from the dirt she supposed. He handed the jar back to her, and then wordlessly produced a spoon. Ildrith ducked her head, amused and embarrassed. She secured the jar in the dirt and held it between her legs, “Thank you.” She said, and claimed the spoon.  
She eagerly dug into the golden syrup, drooling before she had even tasted it. Her mouth barely opened wide enough to accompany the spoon, but she wasn’t about to let it stop her. The strangest combination of pain and pleasure owned her senses for a long while. Only when she realised that she was scraping at empty glass did she snap back into reality.  
“Oh,” she said, thoroughly disappointed. She cringed, thinking how she should have saved some of the honey for her wound. Then she shrugged and began to work on the remaining morsels with her fingers. If only there was tea, then her life would be perfect.  
When there was nothing left but an empty jar, she sighed and leant back. Gimli was watching her carefully, she had honestly forgotten all about the other people. She peeked a sideways glance at Legolas and found that he too was watching her, his lips turned up in a wonderful smirk.  
Ildrith blushed and looked at her lap. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “It would seem I am a tad hungry.” Gimli chuckled nervously, and she gasped. “Oh, Ildrith you are so rude! I am so sorry, I didn’t even offer to share! And how well honey pairs with wafer too.” She slapped her forehead dramatically and flinched at the pain.  
She turned to Legolas, “Do I have, just the most massive bruise somewhere here?” She gestured to the joint on her jaw.  
Legolas was still failing at hiding his amusement, but he shook his head, “No.”  
“Huh,” Ildrith slumped, “Then why does my jaw hurt so badly? I mean, I understand the rest of it, but my jaw?” She clutched her chin, and moved her mandible slowly from side to side. “It almost feels like-” she blanched, suddenly very aware of exactly why she was so stiff. “Oh.”  
Legolas paused his chewing, and Gimli asked, “What was that lassie?”  
Ildrith stared at her feet, she picked at a stray thread and frowned, “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”  
Legolas and Gimli exchanged a look over her head.  
The elf touched his fingertips together as he spoke, “Ildrith, I think it’s time for you to tell us what happened to you.”  
Ildrith sighed. “Where to begin?” She mused. “Well, the shortest version is that I did this to myself. I am no warrior, but I tracked a gang of orcs alone through the woods. I am not a fighter, but somehow I managed to kill some of them. And as you well know, they very nearly returned the favour.”  
“And the long version?” asked Legolas gently.  
Ildrith rubbed her jaw while she thought. “It’s not a happy story.” She said.  
Legolas’s eyes filled with pity, even after the war, there was still so much pain in the world. Would the darkness ever truly be gone?  
“I am sorry,” he said, “I am just trying to understand.”  
Ildrith cringed, “I know, and I owe you an explanation. Will you understand if I say that I am just not ready to give you one yet?” She peeked up, looking to Legolas for his sympathy. His beautiful, grey eyes were filled with sorrow, but there was a hardness in his face. Suspicion, and even fear was there in the set of his jaw, the lines above his brow. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, she hung her head. The wound on her stomach was starting to sting, she placed her free hand over it for comfort.  
Her fingers suddenly felt warm, and wet. She lifted her hand and gasped as she saw the fresh blood staining her skin. She looked down, and pulled her shirt out and stared at the darker circle that was blossoming against the brown. She looked up, Gimli was staring into the flames, and Legolas was simply looking away. She got to her feet carefully, and covered the spot with her hand. The two men looked up when she moved, and she cursed silently.  
“I am tired, I think I will lie down for a bit.” Her sudden bout of fatigue was replaced by adrenaline, but they didn’t need to know that. However they had managed to tend to her when she was unconscious didn’t matter, she was grateful for their efforts. That didn’t mean that she had to make it a habit.  
Gimli grunted in response, “Rest well lass.” She nodded in his direction, but he was already distracted by his pipe once more. She glanced at the elf, but he was already standing, looking like he wanted to help her.  
“I’m fine Legolas, I just need to lie down for a bit. Let all that sugar catch up with me.” She smiled weakly, and he hurried to support her.  
“You are not fine, you are bleeding.” He placed an arm around her shoulders in support. The blood was starting to condense around her fingertips and Ildrith decided that she didn’t care enough just at that moment to fight him off.  
She ignored him, and walked into the tent. She went to her pack, and untied all the straps, opening the entire thing so that it rolled out into a mat with lots of little pockets. Her clothes were all heaped in the middle, and she brushed them off, onto the floor. Legolas knelt beside her with his hands on his knees, keen eyes taking in each of the little pockets she emptied.  
The wound was oozing blood quite quickly now, and she tried to work faster with her one good hand. She spread a clean cloth onto the floor and tried to fold it into a pad, when the material betrayed her for a third time Legolas held out his hand.  
“May I?” He didn’t touch the cloth until Ildrith closed her eyes and nodded.  
“Thank you,” she said, “but I don’t want you to do anything else. Please.”  
Legolas ignored her and handed her a freshly folded, fifteen centimetre long pad, “You were rolling it too short.” He stated.  
Ildrith breathed out heavily through her nose, not from irritation as he may have thought, but from embarrassment. He was making it very hard for her to pretend that she had not passed out bloodied and naked, only to wake up clean and clothed. She sprinkled a few pinches of this herb and that into a mortar, and grabbed the three vials of extract that she planned to add. She sighed and held them out.  
“I can’t get the lids off.” Legolas took them and popped the stopper from a little brown bottle. He paused and looked at her, “hmm, about three drops or so of that please.” He carefully tipped three drops into the mortar, and then secured the stopper and readied the next one. Ildrith held out her hand and turned the bottle in his hands, the liquid oozed like a gel and she nodded, “A tiny drop of that one please. It won’t pour as nicely as the last” she warned, but he had already added the correct amount and replaced the stopper. He held out the last, Ildrith pursed her lips, “Hold on with that one for a bit, I’m not sure we’ll need it.” He placed it to the side and took the pestle that she offered.  
As he mashed up the mixture Ildrith debated her next move, she located some new strapping, and a decently sized pot. Legolas held out the mortar for her to examine, she smiled. “Perfect, we won’t need that third bottle after all.” She studied his face as she took the mortar from him, “You are a good assistant you know.”  
Legolas’s eyes sparkled, but he didn’t say anything. Quietly he gathered up the bottles and placed them back where she had taken them from. He paused over the third bottle, “May I ask what this one is?”  
She smiled, “It’s just a bit of clean water.” She smeared the herbal mush along the whole length of the cloth, squashing it into a thin, but tall line.  
“Ah,” he said, “I am almost disappointed.” She smiled and sat back on her feet.  
“Listen, Legolas, I-”  
He held up a hand, “I know what you are going to say, but you know that you need my help.” Ildrith squirmed and opened her mouth, “Nope,” he said, “I should never have let you stay outside today, I am not about to let you injure yourself further after all the work we have put in to keep you alive.”  
Ildrith sighed, “I know, and I am so very grateful, but… I just… it’s…” She looked at him, willing him to understand.  
He just sighed, “Get onto the bed, you need help, and that is the end of it.”  
She cringed and groaned in defeat. How could she stop him except by further embarrassing both of them by spelling it out? She started propping the pillow up, stopping only when she realised that it wasn’t a pillow at all. It was a big white shirt, stuffed with an assortment of material. She looked all around and then asked of the elf, “Where is my pillow?”  
He frowned, “It, ah, well, you bled a lot on that first day. We had to throw it out.”  
She raised her eyebrows, and then shrugged. Blood was simple enough to get out of most things, but a stuffed pillow might cause problems. “Well that’s alright, thank you for this one, it helps.” She patted it and then lay on her back, propped up by the pillow.  
Legolas brought the clean dressing over and she looked up, “Bring that pot over there too please? You can put the bloodied bandages in there when they come off. I will wash them later, but if you could fill the pot with cold water in the mean time?” He nodded and she lay back.  
“I need to take the wrapping off of your shoulder first,” he said.  
“Of course,” she muttered and sat up. His nimble fingers deftly worked at the knot. Ildrith dropped her right hand to her side and used it as a crutch while he unwound the bandage. She studied his face as he worked, his features were angular, but soft. She saw that up close he had short hairs that stood in all directions at the base of his hairline, tiny imperfections in his flawless upkeep. She glanced down, eager to study those striking eyes when it couldn’t really be called staring. But his face was lower than hers, and their cloudy depths were hidden from her. His lashes cast the smallest of shadows on his cheeks, and she found herself fascinated by the delicate curve of his rosy lips. They were parted just the tiniest fraction, suddenly they turned up at the corners and then opened.  
Her eyes shot up as he said, “Ah, I need you to move.” She frowned, and then looked down, he had finished unwrapping the support from around her chest, and need her arm to be raised so he could undo that part as well.  
“Oh,” she said, colour rising on her cheeks, and lifted her arm too fast, sharp pain shot up and down her humerus and she gasped at her own stupidity.  
“Careful,” he said, “I think you may have a small break here.” He pressed his fingers gently near the point of her shoulder, “But it should heal faster now that-” He stopped as the last bit of bandage fell into his waiting hands. His eyes widened, and he looked into her eyes.  
“What?” she said, cringing as she had opened her jaw too wide. She twisted slightly to get a better view. An ugly black and purple bruise ran diagonally from mid-humerus, back and down towards her elbow joint, a huge raised welt ran down the centre. The skin was broken in a few places, but nowhere as deep as the wound in her side. She held her arm forward, placing it roughly where it would be when she was a bear. With her right index finger she traced the line, and flinched when it jumped from her arm and landed squarely at the beginning of the wound on her midriff.  
Legolas placed the bandaged on the bedroll by her knee and lightly traced the same line. “What did this?” he asked.  
She looked back at his face, brave because he was distracted, “One of their blades,” she said.  
He looked up then, meeting her with eyes full of questions. She looked down at her lap, “The uh, the blade didn’t really connect properly there.” She peeked up, and bit her lip, “And uh, my skin is a lot thicker over my arms.” He frowned, but nodded.  
“You are lucky his blade did not twist further. This wound is right below you heart.” She nodded and lay back, the blood from said wound was still seeping strongly into her shirt.  
She took a deep breath and raised the shirt up over her stomach, holding it tightly where she could feel the strapping ended. Legolas’s lips formed a tight line as he looked down on the strapping.  
“I may have to cut this off.” He warned, Ildrith sighed and nodded. She stared to the side, not wanting to watch his expression any longer. She knew it was bad, she didn’t want proof.  
Legolas turned back and retrieved his knife from its sheath. The old dressing was a mess, the entire front half of her bandage was soaked in fresh and old blood. He braced himself, fearing an infection, and lifted the edge of the strapping to cut it through. Gently he lifted the padding away from the wound, thankful for the blood, so it didn’t stick to her skin and tear open any areas that may have had a chance to heal. It was too messy to gauge the full extent of the damage, he looked around the tent and then grabbed the pot that was meant to save the bandages and headed outside. Gimli looked up, he smiled reassuringly, and went to steal some water from the kettle that was about to be boiled near the fire.  
Ildrith was still lying with her head averted when he went back in. The girl was clearly a healer, but she seemed abnormally squeamish about this process. He sliced off a piece of the old bandage that was semi-clean, and dipped it into the water. As he cleaned around the wound, he realised that it had healed quite nicely. The edges were nice and pink, and though there was some angry looking tissue in the middle, that too seemed to be pulling itself together nicely. If Aragorn were here he could put sutures in to hold it shut, but Legolas was not confident enough to put the girl through that. He was not trained, and would probably botch the job.  
Human healers were fond of their herbal poultices, and he was worried that the plant material might irritate and cause infection, but it looked like she had chosen good herbs for herself. There was no debris in the wound, only fresh blood, so he gave the area around the wound a final wipe with his damp cloth. One stubborn patch of dirt evaded him, he leant closer and touched a finger to the mark; and realised that he was trying to erase a freckle. The cheeky little blemish was hiding just under the pale curve of her breast, partially still covered by her shirt. He shook his head and glanced up to make sure Ildrith was still preoccupied elsewhere, he pushed back the heat that rose to his face, and leant back to procure the clean dressing. Soon he was ready for her to sit up again, the old bandage needed to be removed and replaced.  
Ildrith risked a peek down, he had done a very good job. She had barely felt his cool fingers moving about as he worked. She dropped her shirt gratefully when he was done, relieved that the ordeal was over. Legolas did not look happy though.  
“What is it?” she asked.  
His frown deepened, “You are not going to like this, but I think we need to replace your shirt.”  
Her blush was immediate, “Oh no, its fine. There is not that much blood.” She looked down and cringed, “Okay, so there is a lot of blood.” Legolas pressed his lips together and nodded. “No, look, thank you for your help and everything, but this is just one step too far. I’ll deal with it later. A little bit of blood is not going to kill me.”  
He looked a tad relieved, “Alright, I understand. But if it starts to get to you, just tell me. We will find a way to, ah, preserve your modesty.”  
Ildrith’s cheeks burned even hotter and she nodded, “Thank you, and thanks for this. You did a good job.” She smiled and settled back on her pillow.  
He grimaced, “No, if I was to do a good job I would stitch it. Alas, you are safe, for I am not good enough to practice on you.”  
“It’s alright, I am a fast healer, you’ll see.” Her jaw clicked all of a sudden and she blanched, “Ah!” she grabbed it in her good hand and twisted on the blanket to bury her face in the pillow.  
Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder and rolled her to look at him, “Ildrith? Ugh, I wish you would tell me what happened.” Her tear-filled eyes remained impassive, and he sighed, “At least tell me there is something I can fetch for you?”  
She started to shake her head and then brightened. She mumbled through, clenched teeth, “Willow”  
“Willow? Ah, you have some bark in your bag?” She nodded, “Don’t worry,” he said, “I will find it.”  
He was gone briefly, and returned with a small pinch of brown shavings. He smelt it and then held it for her to confirm. She smiled and took it from him, “Thank-sh” she muttered and then plopped it into her mouth. Chewing was even more painful that talking could be, but she kept at it until the bitter taste filled her mouth. Slowly numbness prevailed and she sighed.  
“Better?” he asked.  
She nodded, “Yesh, thank-sh.” He smiled and stood up to leave.  
“I will leave that arm unwrapped for now. I am sure you know without me saying so; but try to keep it still.” She nodded. “Rest!” he ordered before ducking out.


	3. Revelations

Ildrith realised the mistake she had made venturing out so early into her recovery, so over the next five days, no matter how bored she became, she didn’t risk it again. The boys ate all their meals with her, and Gimli often came to puff his pipe and talk with her. Legolas too, sat with her when Gimli went hunting.  
On the morning of the fifth day, she woke up and stretched without excessive pain. She twisted left and right, and when the freshly replaced bandages didn’t blossom with blood, she smiled and swung her legs over the side of her makeshift cot. It had become a game to see if she could wake before the elf, but even now, when dawn’s grey light was just peeking through the trees, Legolas hurried into the tent before she could leave.  
She scowled playfully, and whispered “Do you ever sleep?”  
Legolas smiled, “I told you before, elves don’t sleep.”  
She laughed silently, “And I told you before, I don’t believe you.” He smiled and gestured to her half escape. She grinned widely, her jaw back to normal at last, “Today is the day!”  
He smiled and offered her a hand. She scrunched up her face, “Actually… I need your help with something first.”  
He retracted his hand and knelt on the ground before her, “What can I do?”  
“I still can’t seem to lift this arm up,” She bit her lip and poked her injured arm. “I think you were right about the position of the break.”  
One side of his mouth turned down for a moment, and then his face went blank again, “Yes well, that will take time to heal.”  
She nodded, “Uhm, so I was wondering if you would help me to, ah, get this off.” She tugged on the bottom of her shirt as understanding dawned on him.  
“Oh, of course.” He stood up and went outside for a moment, when he returned, he held a knife in his hand.  
She frowned and he apologised, “I am sorry, but there will be no saving the shirt, even if you could lift it off of yourself.”  
She sighed, and scooted forward. “I know.”  
He positioned himself behind her, and she reached back to drag her long hair out of his way. He took the bottom of the garment in his hand and sliced quickly all the way to the top. She gasped and clutched her front in case it magically fell off of her.  
He chuckled, “Sorry,” and dropped his knife onto the bed. He moved to her side and gently grabbed the end of the shirt.  
As he started to slide it off she slapped a hand down on the sleeve. He snatched his hands back, confused.  
“What are you doing?” she hissed.  
He frowned, “Sorry, ah, what did you want me to do?”  
She hugged the garment to herself and nodded to the door, “I can manage from here.”  
His brows crept a little closer together, he knelt across her and she stiffened, he collected his knife and held his hands out innocently. She eyed him carefully as he backed out of the tent, and just remembered to call out a thanks before he disappeared. She heard his ghostly chuckle and then turned her back on the entrance.  
She scooted to the end of the bed and reached for her pile of clothes. She singled out underwear, and a reasonably decent tunic and leggings. She only appeared to have one sock, but found the other after a minute of searching. She gently pulled the shirt off of her good arm, and then then other. She held the garment against her chest as she searched for her wash cloth. She had the boys bring her clean water every day so that she could have the decency of a sponge bath under her yukky clothes. Today however, she could really scrub herself with the dry soap she made for winter travel.  
Putting the new clothes on was merely very painful. But when she was fully dressed once more, she felt better than she had for a while. Her gash still stung like crazy, but it wasn’t in any danger of ripping open anymore. She even managed to don her boots, and lace them up. Her injured arm ached as she slid it into the sling they had made, but when she stood up and stretched, she felt strong, and ready to move. She snagged her hairbrush, and worked on untangling her usually luscious black waves. A proper dunk in the river would sort it out in no time, but for now she at least felt presentable.  
When she stepped out, Gimli was rubbing his eyes sleepily, and Legolas was pouring freshly boiled tea into three mugs. Gimli saw her first, “Lassie! What are you doing out?”  
“Good morning Gimli” She said with a smile, “Today is the day!”  
Legolas glanced over and smiled, he brought her some tea and then sat next to the dwarf, clutching his own cup tightly. The brisk early morning smelt of winter, and the hot tea was much needed. Ildrith inhaled the steam appreciatively, blowing on the surface to make the steam blow up, warming her to the tip of her nose. She looked up and smiled.  
Gimli chuckled, “You have said that before. Maybe you should take it easy for a few days more. Try walkin’ around the campfire a bit first.”  
Ildrith cuddled her mug, “Perhaps you are right.” She lowered herself carefully to the ground and tucked her feet beneath her. “So, what is the plan for the day?”  
“I don’t think there should be a plan, at least no’ for you.” Gimli said from beneath bushy eyebrows.  
Ildrith smiled, “As much as it pains me to agree with you, you are quite right. However, I was asking about yourself.”  
“Ah, well, believe it or not, this is about the extent of my exercise per day.” He gestured with his pipe to his outstretched legs and toes warming close to the fire.  
Ildrith chuckled, and then pursed her lips, “I’ve actually been thinking about that recently. What were you two doing before you found me?”  
Gimli took a long drag of his pipe and glanced over at Legolas. The elf tapped his fingers on the mug he was holding and considered his answer. “Well,” he said, “we were on our way from Gondor to meet with the Dúnedain.” Gimli spluttered quietly, and raised his brows. “Does she look like a servant of the enemy?” Legolas asked impassively.  
Gimli grumbled and mumbled his reply, “No, but still…”  
Ildrith shook her head and sloshed her tea, “Woah, ‘servant of the enemy’? What year is it?”  
Legolas frowned, “The war is not yet done, the enemy’s tower has been shattered, but there are still those who remain loyal to his cause.”  
“Alright, so you were tracking someone with these… Dúnedain?”  
Gimli chuckled, “Not exactly, you see, the King sent us to secure peace in the West. There is still a lot of darkness in this part of the world, and the lad here... Well he and I have the means to fix it.”  
Ildrith drank some of her tea while she thought, “I’m not sure I understand; where are the Dúnedain? What have they been doing while you’ve been babysitting me?”  
“That way,” said Gimli, gesturing off into the forest.  
Ildrith turned to look, half expecting to see another encampment poking out of the trees, but the forest was empty, and still in the morning light. She turned back and raised an eyebrow.  
Gimli chuckled, “Not right there, they made camp closer to Dale.”  
“Oh, won’t they be missing you?”  
“Nah, they are not expecting us for some time. We have yet to meet with them, they took a different road after their meeting with the King.”  
Ildrith frowned, and scratched at the edge of her cup. She longed to ask more, but was plagued by guilt. Her little hunting trip was interfering with plans far greater than she could even muster. After the silence had dragged on for a while, Ildrith cleared her throat, “I’m sorry.” She said simply.  
Legolas looked up, startled. He had been watching the forest, lost in thought and oblivious to her distress. Her brows were puckered as she picked at the cup in her hands, he frowned in turn and asked, “What are you sorry for?”  
Ildrith breathed loudly through her nose, “For keeping you from doing the things you should be doing. Honestly I’ve been too selfish to even think about this sort of thing, of course you have to be places, and all because I was an idiot, your plans have been delayed and now you feel obliged to stay here.” She smacked her forehead with her free hand, dropping her cup in the process and spilling the last dregs of her tea all over her boots.  
Gimli puffed his pipe furiously, and Legolas simply sat frowning, unsure how to deal with such an emotional outburst. How to properly explain that she wasn’t being a nuisance?  
Ildrith suddenly looked up and smiled, “No, I know how to fix it. We shall leave, today! My wounds are healed enough for me to walk at the very least, and I certainly don’t need you to hang around and waste your time anymore.”  
Gimli sighed, “Lass, I don’t think you understand, there is no need for urgency. The only thing you should be worrying about is healing, when you are well enough we shall head for the woodland realm together. The Dúnedain will not expect us before winter.” Legolas nodded in agreement, and Gimli continued. “We were lingering in the forest past our time on purpose. If our need was dire, we would have swaddled you like a babe and the elf would have carried you home on his back.”  
Ildrith couldn’t help but smile at the thought, she peeked up and laughed at Legolas’s outraged expression. “Oh, wouldn’t that have been a sight!” Gimli chuckled too, and Ildrith felt herself relax, “Very well, but I still think we should move today. As you mentioned, winter is on its way, and I for one would like to be safe and warm by the time the snow settles.”  
Legolas glanced at the sky through the canopy and shrugged, “We have a few weeks yet, before the snow comes.”  
“I insist,” she said firmly, “We should take advantage of my returning strength and move on. Even if it is just a little bit each day.”  
Gimli nodded slowly, “Aye, you have a point, we can creep our way slowly through the Greenwood and settle in at the mountain halls for the winter.”  
Ildrith grimaced, “You know, I mean for us to part now. You would move a lot quicker without me to hinder your journey east.”  
Legolas leaned forward subconsciously, “Where is your home my lady?”  
Ildrith gestured out of the woods and to the South West, “At the base of those hills there.”  
Legolas and Gimli exchanged a quick look, and Ildrith pressed her lips together. They must at least suspect her, but she decided to wait and see if they were brave enough to ask her further questions of their own accord. She knew that the men of Dale at least were suspicious of her kind, few though there were, and Legolas was the first elf she had ever met despite coming across their scent at the outskirts of Mirkwood on occasion.  
“You should come with us,” said Legolas innocently, “unless you have someone waiting for you at home?”  
Ildrith shook her head, “I live alone, but I cannot come into Mirkwood.” She noticed Legolas flinch at the term and amended quickly, “Ah, I mean the Greenwood. I need to finish what I started here. It’s not safe anymore, and it should be, now that the ring is destroyed. The wizard said he would send help for us, but I have not seen him since before the war, and without a master, the troops are scattered. I actually stand a chance now, well, I will once I have healed up, and maybe done some training…” She paused, her conviction failing as she thought of her injuries. She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter, I will get stronger, and with winter setting in, the goblins will retreat, I will have time to make a plan, a proper one this time.”  
Gimli waved his hands, “Woah lass, you are ramblin’ too fast for these ears. What are you talking about?”  
Ildrith seemed to snap back into reality, and looked to Gimli. “Well, you see, my family has stood guard over these lands for… as long as history. I haven’t seen my brothers since the war, nor any of my kin really, but Radagast told me before he left… He promised that he would send help for us, and we would clear the lands together. I am no fighter, I am barely old enough to hold a sword let alone… Well, it doesn’t matter, I carry the same blood as my ancestors! So when those fiends stole into our stores and made off with precious supplies, I didn’t really think about it. Well, you know the rest, and it is clear now that I should have thought about it. Regardless, I cannot go into the Greenwood, because I need to wait for the wizard’s return, or for one of my brothers. They will come back, it hasn’t been that long since the war ended… Soldiers take a while to come home normally don’t they? I mean there are wounds to see to, and friends to take home, families to meet, dinners to eat, all the rest… Sorry, rambling again.” She said the last part automatically, her eyes were glazed over as she stared at some memory or other.  
“You know Aiwendil?” Legolas asked softly.  
Ildrith answered without breaking through her daze, “Yes that is one of his names I suppose.”  
As Legolas watched her, he came to a realisation, Ildrith was incredibly young. She had seemed older, while he was watching her work through such great pain so bravely, and tend to her wounds with the grace of an age old healer. He had forgotten that Humans mature faster in mind than body. Now, seeing her lost in the weight of so many possible futures, her true age showed. She was barely older than a teen, too young to be living alone in such wilderness; trapped between the darkness that plagued his beloved forest, and the evil that lurked in the mountains.  
Gimli saw his friend’s troubled gaze, and could only guess the cause. He puffed on his pipe and slapped his leg, “Lass?” Ildrith started, and her eyes changed from a dull gold back to their usual hazel hue as she smiled.  
“Sorry, I was day dreaming, what did you say?”  
“I only wanted to say, that I think you should reconsider. Come to the halls with us, wait out this winter with the elves, they are better company than you may think.”  
“I cannot, I-”  
“Sure you can, listen lass, you said your brothers fought in the war, yes?” Ildrith nodded. “Likely with my own kin, and that of the men of Dale?” Again she nodded, a little less sure. “Then they might very well be in Dale. Even if they were uninjured during the battle, a lot of men went to stay in Esgaroth after the war was done. Come with us to the Woodland realm, from there we can find out about your kin.”  
Ildrith frowned, “But… they might return to our home, if they do, and find it empty, especially in the state I left it, they will assume the worst! I have to go back, I have to be there for them when they return.”  
“Lass, I am sorry, but that is madness. If you go home, you will be overrun with goblins. If your brothers return now, yes, they will find the place ransacked. But did you not pack a bag, with this very tent? And all your supplies? They will see that, and know you have sought refuge elsewhere.”  
Ildrith frowned. “I guess… And it would be nice to know what is taking them so long.” She pursed her lips and stared into the trees for a while.  
Eventually she sighed and picked up the cup she had abandoned earlier, “Fine, you are right of course. I just have one more reservation…”  
“Yes?” asked Gimli, relief colouring his voice.  
“Will I be welcome in, er, the Greenwood? I have nothing to offer in return for my stay, I am even injured, and will just be a burden the whole way!”  
Legolas laughed lightly, “Oh, truly do you know so little about the hospitality of my people? To offer payment would be an insult? You will be more than welcome!”  
Ildrith smiled a little sheepishly, “Well… If you’re sure?”  
Gimli chuckled, “We are sure, trust me lass, everything will work out alright.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

No more time was wasted on discussions. Ildrith felt sore, and weaker than she was willing to admit, but she refused to be the cause of further delay. It would take at least a month to reach the Elves home in the Woodland realm, and that was with three healthy, not to mention fit people. She knew she had to try, even if they only made it a couple of kilometres today, she would get stronger.  
When the campsite was all packed up, Legolas and Gimli couldn’t believe Ildrith. Everything that she owned, tent and bedroll included, folded neatly into her pot, which fit snugly among her clothes in her pack. She looked quite elegant in fact, with one small brown pack on her back while they each carried a slightly larger bag that had pots and bedrolls and other paraphernalia hanging off the edges. They didn’t want to let her carry her own bag at first, but when she let them hold it, and showed them how snugly it fit on her back, they relented and Gimli had a grumble over the state of his own pack.  
It was midmorning by the time they eventually managed to set off, Gimli led the way. Legolas brought up the rear, walking beside Ildrith, and slightly behind her. Ildrith was grateful for the shorter legs of the dwarf. Every step she took twinged the wound in her side, and the concussive motion of her boots travelled up her body and jarred her wounded arm.  
They had been walking for about 3 hours when Legolas spoke up from behind her. “Can I ask you something?”  
Ildrith slowed down so that he was next to her, and said, “Sure.”  
“How is the wound on your arm not worse? I know you said your skin is thicker there, but I am struggling to understand what happened?” Ildrith cringed and he backtracked quickly, “I am sorry, I-”  
She shook her head, “No, don’t apologise-”  
He held up his hands, “No, forget I said anything, I-”  
She chuckled, “I am just trying to think of the moment so I can explain it properly.”  
He cringed, “No, the last thing one wants to do after a battle is a play by play.”  
Ildrith smiled wryly, “It’s really fine. This is the most daring thing I have ever done, I may as well boast about it right?” she glanced at him, to see if her attempt to lighten the mood was successful. He still looked ashamed of himself. So she said, “Well, my hide is thicker there, and my fur. Its nature’s armour.” He glanced over, curiosity winning over his shame, “Have you ever seen a bear before?” She asked.  
He shook his head, “Not up close.”  
Gimli suddenly turned around and placed himself at her other side as he spoke, “I have, a great shaggy beast in the blue mountains!”  
Ildrith grinned, delighted by his enthusiasm, “Then you shall be able to picture it. I had-” She suddenly stopped, aware that neither of them had really addressed the issue of her identity yet. She grimaced and peeked at the ground, “You do know about me right?”  
Legolas smiled wryly, “I believe so, yes.”  
Ildrith cleared her throat, not sure if she should make a bigger deal of the reveal or not. She had a mental shrug and carried on with her story. “Ah, anyways, I tracked this group over a few days from the house. I am not very good you see, but I learnt on the job as they say. I surprised them, finished off one of them before they saw me, I think I broke his neck when I fell on him in my charge. There were three left over. One came at me from the side and I swatted him with my paw.” She motioned with her free hand, Gimli’s step faltered as he ducked from her swinging arm. “He fell into the water and I turned on his friend,” she faced Legolas and pushed on his chest with one hand. “I crushed him with my weight, it was the rush of battle that spared me the horror of feeling his ribs break beneath my paws.” She faced forwards and stared into the trees, “The last one jumped at me, trying to impale my flesh, but I turned at the last moment and snapped him between my teeth. My mouth was around his torso, just here.” She touched her abdomen, “I bit down hard, his armour protected him at first, but my jaw was strong and I broke through it soon enough. His blood was fowl in my mouth, and I had to shake my head to free my teeth from his armour. That was when the friend returned. The one I swatted into the river. I was twisted to the side, so my forelimb was extended, like this. He swung at me from far, and the middle of the blade hit above my elbow, where my hide is strongest, but the blade slid, with his full weight behind it, and the tip jumped off the edge of my limb and pierced my hide. I barely remember finishing him.” Her eyes were full of remembered pain, she stared into the trees for a bit and then shook her head, “So there you have it.”  
Legolas watched her, “You are very brave.” She scoffed but he spoke quickly, “Don’t jest, you were lucky yes, but bravery can fill in the gaps of naivety when needed.”  
She shook her head, “You misunderstand then. I wasn’t brave, I was angry.” She bit her lip and then continued, “My brothers were brave. Are brave. They could fight in the war by the mountain, alongside your people,” she nodded at Gimli, “They were trained, and they can control the change. Bravery can be controlled, anger is thoughtless, and dangerous. Next time I won’t be so lucky.”  
Legolas nodded, “Yes, I will help you as we travel.” She looked at him, startled. “Once you are healed of course.”  
She pressed her lips together and stared ahead. She tried to picture the delicate elf wrestling a bear. And failed… She giggled suddenly, and then slapped her hand over her mouth. She could feel them looking at her and she cringed, “Sorry. It’s just… that’s not really what I meant.” She glanced up at the elf, he was frowning, “I mean, I am absolutely no use like this.” She gestured to herself, “I need to learn how to fight, you know.” She raised her eyebrows and trailed off suggestively. Legolas tilted his head, his puzzled expression deepening. Ildrith said, “You know,” she lifted her hand as a claw and scrunched at the air while snapping her teeth and making a weird growling noise. Legolas looked to Gimli for help, but the dwarf just stared at her with an open mouth.  
She looked between them and straightened herself up, “I just don’t think you’ll be able to help me when I’m like that.”  
They simply kept staring at her, she cleared her throat and then noticed some drool on her lip. She wiped it off and stared forward, mentally slapping her inability to function in a normal conversation. Gimli watched her wipe her chin and glanced at the elf, whose uncomfortable expression drove him over the edge, he started to laugh loudly.  
Legolas’s eyed widened further and he glanced between his mirthful friend and the slightly abashed Beorning.  
Gimli snorted and clapped on his thigh, “Ah laddie, your face! You may have left that pretty throne of yours, but you are ever the princeling.” He dissolved into mirth and Legolas frowned.  
Ildrith turned to stare at him, “Princeling?” She raised her eyebrows and Legolas sighed.  
“My father is King Thranduil of the Greenwood, Mirkwood.” Ildrith’s eyebrows shot up and she turned away, to stare at the trees again. He cringed, “It’s not like that. Our people are different to yours. Besides, the woodland realm is fading. Soon my father will depart with the remainder of my kin. Those of us who will stay are not enough to form a kingdom.”  
Ildrith glanced back at his sorrowful face. She felt her heart wrench, “I am sorry. I know what it is to live among a dying people.” He looked back and smiled ruefully. Gimli sobered up some and cleared his throat.  
“Should we stop for a spot of lunch?”


	4. The Path Through the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may notice, that I switch between Sindarin and Quenya when writing the elvish, it is simply a personal preference, when I say the sentences aloud, I choose the phrase I think sounds best. If it is bothering anyone, just let me know and I’ll change it. Also please let me know if you are happy with the style I choose to portray the translation in. I am using very basic language, so if you want, I can simply leave out the translation, or add them at the end? Let me know (: Some of you will also notice I used a line in Quenya directly from the FOTR movie, it’s just one of my favourite lines, and I had to put it in as tribute.

They travelled for what seemed an age. Having started off just inside the borders of Western Mirkwood, and with Legolas as a guide, they were able to make a fairly accurate bee-line for Thranduil’s halls. Still, the forest tried its best to play tricks on them.  
Even before it had become Mirkwood, the trees of the Greenwood were old, and mischievous. Now that the darkness was dissipating from the forest, it was no longer as deadly for travellers to step off the path and become lost in the trees. This didn’t mean that the trees had stopped their impish ways, despite travelling under the protection of the elf’s magic, Ildrith and Gimli found themselves fooled by the forest once or twice a day.  
Legolas knew his path well enough to keep them near streams that could provide safe, clean water to drink, and he knew which selfish trees had loads of delicious, edible fruit that they kept to themselves. So they never had to worry about wandering about, confused and starving as so many had before them.  
A few days into their journey, when the canopy above had become so thick that an endless twilight seemed to have fallen upon the group, they came across a river. Gimli was immediately suspicious, and began to tell a tale of his father’s friend, who fell in a similar river and had to be carried about with the luggage for the rest of the trip. Legolas simply laughed, and Ildrith demanded they pause for an extended lunch on the banks of the river, so Gimli could tell his tale in full. More importantly, though she’d never admit it, so that Ildrith could catch her breath.  
As she recovered, Gimli unpacked a small lunch for them, and Legolas sat cross-legged and played with a small pile of leaves. The story was fantastic, and Ildrith couldn’t tell if it was meant to be true. Legolas smiled, refusing to reveal if the story was real or not.  
“But… He said they travelled to your father’s halls eventually, did they not?” Ildrith asked, determined to crack through the elf’s amused silence.  
Gimli grumbled about elvish secrets, and started throwing pebbles into the stream. After a time, as they slipped into companionable silence, Ildrith began to stare wistfully at the ripples being made in the water. Legolas watched her thoughtfully.  
“This water is perfectly safe milady.” He said softly, so as not to break into her private thoughts should she wish to remain quiet.  
Ildrith’s lips curved into a small smile, and she turned away reluctantly. “Do you so quickly wish for me to offend our friend here? Who spent the better part of our lunch warning me against this very stream?”  
Legolas chuckled, and Gimli grunted a soft “Hear-hear.”  
“You will be safe near me, I will even turn around and listen to the birds so you can bathe should you wish.”  
Ildrith smiled in earnest now, and looked back at the stream. “The water does look tempting.” She bit her lip and looked to Gimli. “Yourself master dwarf? Will you dip your toes?”  
Gimli scoffed and set about taking his tobacco pouch from his pockets. “Nay lass, but you go ahead. I will busy myself if you want an extended break so to speak.”  
The sun shone too brightly through the canopy for the darkness to touch her, and the thought of being clean, after weeks of lying about feeling grimy, it was too tempting an offer. She accepted Legolas’s offer to remain close-by while she swam, not wishing to be swept away on a fanciful dream-trip.  
“I just want to clean my hair.” She insisted, “You needn’t turn your back, in fact, I will go so far as to say you may join me should you wish.”  
Legolas politely declined, and reassured her that he would stay close, but engage with the dwarf to give her privacy.  
Ildrith felt quite self-conscious at first, practicality dictated she strip down to her under-shirt and long-johns so that she would have something dry to change into afterwards. Still, it took her a time to actually undo her tunic and take off her breeches. Seeing her scars, still so purple and angry, made her think unpleasant thoughts, it still made her blush and cringe to think how the men had found her. She was playing around with the idea of swearing them to secrecy should they end up finding her brothers in the Woodland halls. While she knew absolutely that they meant her no ignominy, her brothers might not sit still enough to hear the entire story. They were bears after all.  
As soon as she slipped into the stream however, all her misgivings melted away. The water felt glorious, cold around her slightly angry healing wounds, and wonderfully refreshing to the rest of her body. She brought her brush in with her, and properly untangled her hair for the first time since leaving home. The conversation between the men slowly became distant and irrelevant as she calmly untangled all the knots. When she was quite satisfied, she climbed onto the opposite bank to dry off, for no other reason than it looked warmer. The sun had shifted and the bank where the elf and dwarf sat was obscured in mottled shade now.  
Ildrith lay flat out in the sand and let the sun dry her hair as it fanned out behind her. She must have dosed off, for suddenly there was shade on her eyelids where moments before the warmest sun kissed her into sleep. She groaned in irritation at being woken, and opened her eyes.  
That same, stormy grey sky from before greeted her, and she smiled dreamily. Something was rocking her, and she grumbled, trying to swat whoever could be so rude. Searing pain cut through her arm, and she gasped and sat up abruptly. All at once her hearing returned, and she felt as if a fog was draining from her mind. Heaving, she looked from side to side in a panic, the sun was still the same, the day had not passed in a blur, and she had not slept away her life as Gimli had feared would happen should the sleep-sickness take her. She fumbled around until her gaze settled on the calming grey-sky-blue of Legolas’s eyes. He was kneeling before her, hands gripping either shoulder firmly, nose inches from her own. She focused on his eyes until her breathing calmed, and her mind cleared.  
“What happened?” She asked, a bit shaken.  
“You fell under the spell.” He breathed, and Ildrith closed her eyes, letting his oddly rain-scented breath caress her face.  
She opened her eyes again and asked, “How long did I sleep?”  
Legolas smiled, “Less than a minute.”  
Ildrith smiled too, she allowed herself a few too many guilt-free seconds staring into those strangely beautiful elven eyes. One could quite easily become lost in their depths, she realised he may just be as dangerous as the forest from which he was born.  
She brought her uninjured hand to her head and covered her eyes, “Oh, I feel so… silly.” She felt embarrassment colour her cheeks, and dropped her hand to the sound of the elf giggling.  
He was fascinating in his mirth, even as it bubbled over into laughter. Ildrith found herself taken up by the merriment rather than pushed further into shame by it. She covered her mouth and laughed aloud, shaking her head as she recalled her panic, and how amusing it must appear to the other two, seasoned warriors as they were.  
Suddenly Gimli piped up, his usually gruff voice made even deeper from annoyance, “If you two air-heads are quite done, I am catching a cold over here!”  
Ildrith and Legolas looked over, momentarily sobered by their friend. The sight of the dwarf, up to his waist in water, with the tip of his ginger beard being sucked away downstream, was too much for them, and they dissolved back into laughter.  
Legolas stood quickly and trotted easily through the water to splash Gimli and beckon Ildrith to join them.  
“Come young one, else I fear our friend will float away back to Imladris!” He held out his hand, and Ildrith joined them in the water.  
Once they were all out of the stream, all packed up and dry once more, Gimli looked over to Ildrith and said, “I must say lass, it is good to see you smile.”  
Ildrith blushed, and ducked her head, “It is good to laugh again.” She looked up to see them both watching her, “I feel I should say something before we continue. I had my reservations about joining you on this trip, but I can see now that it was the right thing to do. It feels right. So thank you.” She squirmed under their gaze, and looked at her feet.  
“Ah lass…” Said Gimli fondly, he walked to her and patted her gently on her uninjured shoulder. Legolas simply smiled and began walking slowly in the right direction.  
Ildrith turned back before following, to cast a fond glance on the scene they were walking from. She committed the sun-lit banks of the river to memory and then turned away and settled in behind the dwarf.  
………………………………………………………….................................  
About a week into the journey, they came across a dark place. Legolas stopped walking mid-afternoon, and tilted his head as if deep in thought. He closed his eyes, and Ildrith came round his side to see what was wrong. As she reached him he frowned and shook his head, Ildrith touched his shoulder lightly, and he opened his eyes into hers.  
“Hey,” she said, “what’s wrong?”  
His mouth pressed into a tight line and he shook his head, “Perhaps it is nothing, however… I fear we should retrace our steps. This place, it feels wrong, it might be best to avoid it.”  
Gimli looked confused, he looked up into the canopy, and all around, then back to elf. He shrugged and adjusted his pack on his back. “I don’t see anything amiss. Are you sure it’s not just because we are getting closer to yer house?”  
Legolas smiled tersely and shook his head, “We are still a ways from my people.”  
Ildrith stood up and looked around, she took a few deep breaths and really focused on her surroundings. She let the magic free from her mind, just enough to sharpen her senses. Her ears pricked, she heard the heavy dull thud of Gimli’s great heart beating solidly next to her, their collective breathing, and… Nothing else. Her eyes opened, and Gimli gasped, her iris’s covered her entire eye, and shone gold like a freshly polished vase. She ignored her companions and peered closely at the shrubbery surrounding them. Everything appeared normal, but as the elf had said, it was something beyond what her senses could perceive. Her nose twitched, and told her a vastly different tale.  
There was something… Off about the smell. Something akin to decay, only stronger, but weaker. She shook her head and released the magic.  
“I can see what you mean. It is too quiet, and it smells all wrong.”  
Legolas kept staring ahead, his eyes almost squinting into the dark forest ahead. Eventually he sighed and turned back to them.  
“It is not my place to decide what we should do.”  
Gimli snorted, “Yes, actually it is lad.”  
Legolas frowned and looked to Ildrith, who only shrugged and gestured for him to lead. The elf turned in a circle, and then set off in a direction askew to where they had been heading, not completely back the way they came, but not directly as they were heading either.  
An hour or so later, Legolas halted. He looked at his feet, trying to decide if they were to blame. Something was not right. He shook his head, and the world tilted around him. Alarmed, he braced his feet in the earth and held a hand to his head. The other hand went to his belt and unsheathed his short-sword. He swung around wildly, ready to protect his companions should they be overcome, only to find he was quite alone. His balance was off, and he staggered slightly in a battle for stability.  
Dumbfounded he sheathed his weapon and rubbed his eyes. This motion helped. So he did it again, and unhooked his water-skin to splash some cold on his face. It helped, more than he expected. He dropped to his knees as his senses suddenly returned to him in a flood. He gasped and shook his head, wondering when they had lead him astray in the first place. It was unthinkable that an elf of this realm be over-come by the darkness that plagued the land, he was born of the forest, he knew it better than anyone alive, or so he had told himself in his youth. Cursing his foolishness he stood and turned back to retrace his steps, fear for his friends causing him to break into a sprint. There would be time for reflection when everyone was safe.  
Ildrith didn’t realise Legolas was walking faster and faster as they skirted the dark area. As he crept away from them, Ildrith and Gimli fell deeper under the confusion. They wondered away from each other, and the elf was oblivious to their loss as he slipped into a more natural pace for moving efficiently through the deep woods.  
Ildrith could feel deep down that something was wrong, but much like a fever-dream, she was powerless to prevent it. Her legs failed her first, and she stumbled into the leaf litter at the base of an ancient oak. Her arm crumpled beneath her and she cringed as pain spread through her fingers like lightning beneath her skin. She managed to roll onto her back, and watched in horror as the trees above her swayed in triumph. She had one last coherent thought, one of fear and confusion, and then fell into a dream-like state.  
Her nostrils burned as the scent of death leached into her, but she felt too weak to resist the lure of darkness. Her eyes wanted to flutter closed, but even as they rolled back in her head, she saw dark figures leaping about the branches above. They began to blur together, gaining in speed and number until it seemed to her that she gazed upon a black sheet in the sky, across which the scene of a battle played out. She could almost make out two giant black bears amidst the masses of men. Yes, now that the thought crossed her mind, she could see them clearly, in fact they were the only figures clear now.  
There was Lytham, the younger of the two, and here now Othar, her eldest brother. They fought side-by-side, glorious as gods tearing apart the battle-field towards victory. Until a cave troll swung his great club, striking Othar hard across the back, sending him flying towards Ildrith. She flung her hands over her eyes and cried out. His pain was as real as her own, and the vision did not fade. She watched Lytham leap towards the beast that felled his brother, only to be set upon by three great wolf-like creatures, Wargs she knew, though she had never seen one before. They tore into his flesh as easily as he had their masters’, and Ildrith felt blood in her mouth as her brother fought for his life. Othar rose from where he had fallen, and with one great swipe of his paw, downed one of the beasts. The Warg nearest him turned quickly and began snapping at his throat. Othar was wounded, so he did not return the attack as viciously as he might have at full strength. Ildrith did not know who to watch, as the brothers grew further and further apart. Lytham was struck down by a fell blade neither of them saw coming, and she felt it in her own heart as he roared in anguish and backed away from the fight. Othar heard his brother’s cry. He watched as a last agonal gasp misted the air about his nose and he shifted from bear to man, his magic drained away with the remainder of his life. Othar’s distraction cost him dearly, Ildrith cried out as he too fell into death, and the scene shifted before her.  
Lytham was laughing as he raced Othar to their homestead. Bursting open the door, they found it empty, tables thrown carelessly asunder, the place clearly ransacked. She felt her breath hitch as her worst fears were realised. They knelt before her bed, grief distracting them just long enough for the goblins to sneak up behind them and slay them.  
Another of Lytham dragging his brother on a stretcher in the snow, succumbing to the cold, far from any help, and too weak to transform and save them both.  
Ildrith felt tears hot as blood well up and fall as she was made to watch her family die, over and over, in a thousand different ways. She huddled into a ball, but the darkness crept beneath her eyelids even as she covered her head to escape it. Once more she was forced to watch as Othar charged into their burnt and abandoned house, this time to find her own corpse shoved against the wall, broken beneath a pile of rubble. Her brothers mourned, but she felt something strange enter her heart, almost like joy. At least if they came home to find her dead, then they were home, and safe. She wept, and wished it were so.  
When Legolas found her, she was huddled on her side, her hands covering her ears and her eyes screwed tightly shut. He knelt before her softly, but she didn’t hear him. As he reached over to alert her to his presence, he noticed her lips moving. She was whispering something to herself, over and over again, only too soft for him to hear. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and with another gently lifted her fingers to hold her hand within his own.  
“Ildrith,” he whispered, “Echuio! An gell nîn, lasto beth nîn, echuio. Goheno nin.” [Awaken! Please hear my voice, awaken. Forgive me.]  
Her eyes seemed to relax some, and Legolas cupped her face in his hands, “Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.” [Hear my voice, come back to the light.]  
Ildrith’s eyes moved restlessly beneath her lids, and then she gasped and they opened wide. She stared at nothing in particular for a while, struggling to focus, and then she saw him.  
“Legolas?”  
He stroked her hair gently, “I am here.” She closed her eyes, and let the last of her tears run down her cheek, her fingers felt too cold to move, but she found the edge of his boot, where it lay by her head, and grasped it tight.  
“You are real,” her breath hitched, and she hiccupped. “Don’t leave me.”  
He grimaced and muttered. “Av'osto, udúlen.” [Don’t be afraid, I am here.]  
She nodded, bit her lip and then whispered again, “Please don’t leave me.”  
“Loro, udúlen” [Sleep, I am here.]  
She clutched his boot tighter, and her eyes fluttered shut. He watched her carefully, but she appeared to have succumbed to her exhaustion. Her hand soon became limp with true sleep, and he gently pried it loose from his boot, and gathered her slight form carefully into his arms. As he stood, she grasped the back of his neck reflexively. He cradled her carefully, and set off to find the dwarf.  
………………………………………………………….................................  
Ildrith woke slowly, her eyes felt like sandpaper, but her mind was mercifully clear. The forest above her was just beginning to wake, grey light filtered down through the leaves as the sound of the first birds of the day echoed eerily around her. She lifted a hand to her eyes, and cringed as the jolt of pain reminded her of where she was.  
She sat up carefully, and looked about. Gimli was fast asleep, but Legolas stood with his back to her on the other side of a small campfire. His back was straight and stiff, she sighed, guessing the dark thoughts that were running through his mind.  
For the longest time, she sat and chewed her lip, unsure if she should say something, and what she should say. Surely he knew she was awake, after all when had she ever beaten him at that game?  
Eventually she picked at the edge of her tunic and whispered softly, “It’s not your fault.”  
When she peeked up, she knew he had heard her, his hands were clenched into fists at his sides and his back looked even tenser as he peered into the trees.  
“How could any of us have known the darkness would affect you too? It’s not your fault.”  
His head dropped, but he made no other movement, no sound. Ildrith sighed, and got to her feet. She crept around the fire, and avoided Gimli’s slumbering form. She stood before him, and tentatively claimed his left hand with both of hers. He was so much taller than her, and his hand fit just between both of hers. It was so cold, unusual for him, Ildrith stared at their hands for a long while, until his fingers didn’t seem quite so frigid. She returned the warmed hand to his side and picked up his other, it was as cold as she expected. She set about warming that one too, only thinking to peek at his reaction when his fingers were squashed beneath hers.  
He was watching her, his face perfectly impassive, as she played with his hands. For some unknown reason, she blushed and looked back at their hands. When his fingers were warm once more and it was time to return them to his side he caught her hands in his and held them gently. She looked up once more, and smiled.  
“Thank you,” she said softly, “that’s twice you have saved me.”  
He cringed and dropped her hands, his eyes hardened. He straightened up and looked away. She frowned, annoyed that he could ignore her so easily. She stood on her tiptoes and put her hands on either side of his face.  
“Look here you silly elf, I am trying to tell you that I am grateful.”  
He stared through her, his eyes so cold that she almost chickened out and went back to bed, but mercifully he broke his silence. He grasped her wrists gently and pulled her hands away from his face.  
“I am trying to tell you that your gratitude is misplaced.” Ildrith opened her mouth to speak, but he dropped her hands and shushed her with a finger to her lips. “No, there is nothing you can say, it is my fault that this happened to you both. I cannot make it right, but I can make sure it does not happen again.”  
He dropped his hand, and Ildrith slumped back onto her heels. She watched as his face grew emotionless, and he stared out into the trees once more. She huffed, and he made no movement, she rocked on the balls of her feet, and still he did not change.  
Glancing back to Gimli, Ildrith began to formulate a plan. If the elf wanted to sulk… Well she simply wasn’t going to let him, at least not without doing everything in her power to snap him out of it.  
She gave him once last glance, and then huffed and stomped back to where she had been lying. She made a big show of sitting down, and poking the fire, small movements and noises to make sure her main plan wouldn’t be witnessed.  
One more poke to make sure Gimli was still very much asleep, and Ildrith stood. She had one self-conscious look around the forest and then began to strip down to nothing. She stood completely naked, panic being the chief emotion instead of anger as she had hoped. She closed her eyes, praying to every deity she knew that no-one would see her until she was done.  
Her brothers were masters of the art, they could control the change so completely, they never even seemed to be angry when they shifted. She had only done it a handful of times, and those had been by accident. Plus, she had only very recently stopped wearing her sling, and her injured arm hung weakly by her side. She hoped the change wouldn’t hinder her healing in any way… She shook her head to clear it, and focused on the elf. How ridiculous he was being, trying to summon the magic in her usual way, she felt it enter her blood the way she made it do in order to cheat her senses. The warmth spread all the way to her toes, and she pushed it forward, her face turning red with effort.  
Warmth of a different kind began to emanate from her pores, this was red hot, and burned almost uncontrollably as it spread through her body. Suddenly she dropped to her hands, she bit her lip to keep from crying out as the pain of the change raged in her bones. Fortunately, once the magic took hold, the transformation was more or less instant. So when she blinked, she knew it was through the eyes of her other form.  
The camp fire stung her nose, and Gimli’s ever breath ricocheted around her brain like the loudest snore. She glanced down to make sure, and smiled internally at the sight of her claws. First she put some weight on her injured arm, it held nicely, only aching slightly at the turn of the joint. She lifted her head to the sky and sniffed the air, it was clean, and clear, absolutely perfect. Now for the fun part.  
She zoned in on the elf, pushing back that primal instinct to attack, she remembered her brothers talking about a double-mindedness, and focused on keeping herself whole as she crept quietly to the elf’s side. She sat back on her haunches and very carefully scooted forward until the top of her head was level with his shoulders.  
She could barely contain herself, and was very glad that bears can’t laugh. Not in the traditional sense at least. She knew he could sense her there, it was obvious in the way he had tensed up as she stalked closer to him. Stubborn elf was determined to ignore her. Well, she could be patient.  
She lost track of precisely how long he stood oblivious to her state of being, she was behind his peripherals, so he couldn’t really be blamed. Still, if she had been human, she would have ruined everything by laughing by this point. Eventually, the game was given up by Gimli.  
A huge yawn sounded behind her, and Ildrith flicked an ear back in response. She could almost feel Legolas stiffen even more beside her. His reaction steeled her resolve, she rolled her eyes, thinking, “dramatic creature.”  
The forest suddenly leapt into life as Gimli opened his eyes onto the sight of a great Brown bear. He cried out in alarm, and leapt to his feet. This of course led to Legolas whipping around in full battle-mode. His arm brushed against Ildrith’s furry shoulder as he turned, and Ildrith had the immense satisfaction of seeing his wintery gaze widen beyond wide, and the perfect elvish prince leapt back so suddenly that his boot caught on a stick and he fell with a huff onto his butt.  
Ildrith got to her feet, and put on her most blank animal stare. She turned to the prince and started a menacing growl deep within her throat. When it reached her lips, she crinkled her nose and exposed her teeth, all the while stalking closer to Legolas as he sat frozen in the dirt.  
Gimli realised, as Legolas must have too, that this was no ordinary bear, and decided to stand back and let the situation play out. Ildrith stomped all the way over Legolas, until he was pinned beneath her. She placed a great paw on either side of his pointy ears, and leant right up to his face, pushing him back until he was lying flat on the ground. His eyes had lost their fear almost immediately, but there was a fair amount of caution amidst their stormy depths as she just about poked him with her cold, wet nose.  
He raised his hands in reflex, as she bent her head even lower, and opened her maw wide, as if to grip his throat between her teeth. Just as Gimli was thinking he should step in and intervene, Ildrith let out a final throaty growl, and began to cover his face in great slobbery licks.  
The elf immediately cried out in protest, so Ildrith collapsed her body onto his, keeping her weight off him, but trapping his hands beneath him. So he was helpless as she covered him in her ‘yukky’ bear saliva. Gimli watched dumb-struck for a moment, and then began to laugh whole-heartedly and slapped his leg.  
Legolas continued to squirm beneath Ildrith, and let out the occasional desperate cry of protest, until eventually he too was laughing and gasping for air. Only then did Ildrith let up and shift her weight so she was sitting back on her haunches and he could escape.  
He jumped to his feet and started wiping at his soaking face. Gimli trotted over and slapped Ildrith on the shoulder, she swatted at him half-heartedly with a paw and snorted to let him know his company was well-received. The elf gave his face one last wipe with a sleeve and glanced over at the dwarf and the bear. He scrunched his face into the best mock-outrage he could muster until Ildrith spotted his expression and nudged Gimli.  
“Uh-oh.” The dwarf said, as he stepped to the side, “He’s all yours.”  
Legolas braced himself, rolling back on his heels, and then sprinted towards Ildrith. Before she could react, he had leapt gracefully through the air and spear-tackled her onto the ground. Luckily she was so fluffy, and could simply roll with the motion, or they would have been tossed unceremoniously back into the leaves. As it was, Legolas landed on top of her and started to tickle her like an upside-down dog. Ildrith roared in outrage and used all four limbs to gain enough purchase under him to push him away from her and flick him over her head into the leaves.  
The elf was ready for this however, and landed lithe as a cat, he had sprung up before Ildrith could right herself and bore down on her to ruffle the sensitive hair about her neck. Ildrith grumbled in protest and rolled over. She ran in a wide circle to the other side of the fire, but the elf was already there, he had neatly wrapped his hands around her neck before she could react. Ildrith shoved him away with her body and wrapped her mouth around his torso. She didn’t bite of course, but the scene obviously looked violent enough that Gimli sought to intervene at last.  
“Alright you two, cut it out.” He smack Legolas on the back, and poked Ildrith with the butt of his axe.  
Ildrith relented and sat on her haunches again, her front paws dangling neatly in front of her like a human. Gimli raised his eyebrows at them, but Ildrith ignored him and watched Legolas carefully. There was still an echo of sadness about him, but his cheeks were pink from exertion, and his eyes were bright enough to match his grin.  
“What is all this about then?” Asked the dwarf.  
Legolas looked at Ildrith expectantly, and Gimli glanced between them. Ildrith looked over and saw Legolas waiting for her response, she waved a paw about and made an exasperated groan which came out as a strangled growl. To which both men had to chuckle.  
Legolas held up a hand, “Alright, peace!” Ildrith bobbed her head and snorted. Legolas rubbed his hair, which was still sticking up in odd places from being licked so savagely, and chuckled. “I understand your point.”  
Ildrith shrugged and growled.  
“I do, I understand.” Ildrith stared at him blankly and waved a paw about. He smiled at her expression and continued, “I cannot blame myself, it is as unfair to accept all the blame as it would be to pin all the blame on you for being in your human form.”  
Ildrith stared at him, astonished, and a tad irritated. She didn’t expect him to get it that quickly, now she felt a little silly for making such a big scene. At least it got him out of his depression. She shrugged again, and plopped down onto all fours. She loped over to where she had stripped and returned to the gentlemen with her clothes in her mouth, she dropped them on the floor and sat on her haunches. They stared at the pile on the floor and exchanged a look of generalised confusion.  
Ildrith rolled her eyes and made a circling motion with her paw, they continued to stare at her until she dropped onto her feet and pushed at Legolas with her head, she kept pushing him until he backed away, and then turned to do the same to Gimli.  
“Ah, I see, come on laddie, she wants to change.” Said Gimli, grabbing Legolas’s arm and tugging him back to the fire.  
Ildrith closed her eyes and took a few deep calming breathes. She pulled the magic into her mind and focused on the changing ritual until she felt her limbs growing cold once more. The air stung her exposed skin and she opened her eyes to a changed world. Somehow it was always more disorientating changing back. She changed quickly, eager to get some breakfast.


	5. The Dark of Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter touches on dark topics.

Ildrith sat down beside the fire feeling energised, but a little embarrassed. Gimli smiled fondly at her, and she smiled tentatively back. She still couldn't decide if he approved of who she was, or not. Either way, they had both succumbed to the dark magic, and her heart ached to think there would be this darkness among them from now on.

She cleared her throat, "So… what did you think?"

Gimli chuckled, and started to stuff his pipe with the never ending supply of tobacco he kept hidden somewhere about his person. Legolas donned the appropriate level of aggravation, but Ildrith was relieved to see some amusement tugging on the corner of his mouth.

"Ye' sure know how to get a point across!" Said Gimli as he lit his pipe.

Ildrith ducked her head and smiled, "Yes, well… Stubbornness is always cured with laughter, and a certain someone was being just that!"

Legolas cringed, and Ildrith grimaced. She was never any good at talking about deeper issues, but this seemed to be one of those instances that couldn't be swept under the rug and forgotten.

"Sorry." She whispered.

"No," said Legolas firmly, "It is I who must apologise, to both of you."

Ildrith started to protest, but Legolas cut her off, "No Ildrith, this is important. I put both of you in danger. There is no excuse for what happened, none I can rightly give, and there exist no words to express my sorrow, nor my guilt. I will deliver you safely as I promised, and the king can decide what to do about my foolishness."

"Lad…" Gimli said softly, but Legolas simply ignored him and stared intently into the trees.

Ildrith bit her tongue, quite painfully. It was a new experience for her, she was used to speaking without a filter, and each new reminder of his royal heritage made Ildrith feel further out of her element. If one of her brothers got caught in this sort of shame spiral, she knew exactly how she would get them out of it, but a prince? And an elf at that? She could hardly turn into a bear and cover him in kisses every time something set him off like this.

She wrapped her arms about herself, feeling wildly inadequate.

"Legolas," she said gently, she began to pick at her laces nervously as her carefully constructed sentence spilled awkwardly from her lips. "I know more than anyone, well not anyone, but, uh. I know better than most, the obligation you have put on yourself. We have all been fighting the darkness, we have all seen it etch away at our homes, and I personally know what it is like to see that darkness overcome the places you never thought it could. I have lived in view of your Greenwood my whole life, I have walked in these trees before, and I have seen the darkness spread out into the world, even to my own home." Her voice caught on some deep buried emotion, and she cleared her throat. "My point is this; you can't take responsibility for what the darkness does. Not even now, especially now, in fact! No-one knows how the world will shift in his absence. I am sure I speak for Gimli too when I say, I feel nothing but gratitude towards you. You saved us, truly…" She looked up, quite proud of her little speech.

Legolas kept his stony gaze on the trees, and Ildrith's triumphant smile faltered. She felt a spike of shame stab her heart, and turned to Gimli for reassurance. His eyes were veiled as he watched his friend, and when he met her eye at last, he simply shrugged and hung his head.

Ildrith balled her fists. She was far too keyed up from her transformation to simply sit in contemplative silence. Her magic rushed through her veins, burning through the adrenaline fast, but not fast enough. She got to her feet, feeling she would spontaneously combust if she tried to remain still and silent a moment longer. Gimli looked up, startled by her sudden movement, Legolas glanced over then turned away once more.

Ildrith ignored the elf and smiled crookedly at Gimli, "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

He removed the pipe from his lips and made a vague gesture of dismissal. Ildrith bobbed her head and turned to walk a few paces from the fire, attempting to push the limits of where the elf's magic would protect them. She knew from legend that there were places in the woods where good magic lingered, places of celebration where the wood elves frequented. She wondered idly how long an elf would have to remain in one place before it was changed. Could one elf alone create such a place, or was it only when they gathered together for a joyous occasion?

She expected to find a definite line in the dirt where his influence could no longer be felt. Something tangible to show her that she was nearing the edge of the magic. Feeling a little silly, she edged forward, one hand held out as if to detect temperature changes, or perhaps a foul wind? Instinctively she slowed, one more step and the hairs on the back of her neck stood. Her heart beat a little faster, this must be it. Her animal instincts nudged her, telling her in their own way that there was something afoot.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Legolas materialised before her and said, "What are you doing?"

"Gah!" She said, jumping back and clutching her heart. "Legolas, what the… You scared me!"

The ghost of a smile touched his lips, "Where are you going?"

Ildrith dropped her hands, and fiddled her fingers together, she looked at her feet, feeling foolish once more. "I, uh, I was just." She blushed and peeked up to see if he was angry, his face was smooth and impassive, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that allowed her confidence enough to blurt out the truth. "I wanted to see where the magic ended."

His brows knit in confusion, "Which magic?"

She rocked on her heels, feeling for some strange reason as though she was on the verge of getting in trouble from a school master. "Your magic, the one that protects us. I wanted to see how far it extends." She cringed as he flinched, and hurried to correct the damage. "Not for that reason. I just… I wanted something to do. I just couldn't stand the silence - I mean… ugh! Never mind, I'll try meditate or something."

She stomped back to her log and sat down dramatically. Her heart was still racing too fast, she finally understood why her brothers always seemed to be on the move. If this was the kind of high a change could leave you with… Well maybe she'd have had energy to run up and down mountains all day too.

Silent as the breeze, the elf came to join them at the fire. He stared off into the trees, as before, and Ildrith wondered if he had sat down simply to keep her in check. The thought grated her nerves, fresh as they were, and she was surprised to feel a stab of irritation towards the elf. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the feeling, but her emotions were too heightened to listen to logic just yet, and her shoulders tensed.

"So Gimli…" She asked, to try and distract herself. "Do you plan to return to your home soon?"

Gimli cleared his throat, and sat up a little straighter. "Ah, actually yes. I was to continue on after the lad here settled back in with his kin."

Ildrith nodded, picking at leaves on the ground as a way to channel her excess energy. "You home being the mountain, by Dale?"

He chuckled and nodded, "Aye, I have kin ter see to."

"Tell me about it."

"What do ye want to kno' lass? The tale of the Mountain is a long one."

Ildrith smiled, but looked at her feet, considering if there was any hesitancy behind his words. "Perhaps then it is a tale for the great elven halls, and not the dark of the forest?"

Gimli startled her by roaring with laughter, and slapping his leg. She looked up, her eyes darting to Legolas uncertainly. He was smiling, a true smile though his eyes were down. She felt her spirits lift, relief seizing control at the sight of the mirth that had seeped into the company at last. A lock of Legolas's still ruffled hair fell forward to cover his face, and Ildrith bit her lip, a small giggle escaping as she remembered the outrage on his face when she had pounced on him.

When Gimli calmed slightly, Ildrith shook her head to bring her thoughts back to what could possibly have made him laugh so furiously.

"What?" She asked, "What did I say?"

Gimli wiped his eyes, "Oh lass, its just… the thought of anyone telling that particular tale in the Hall's, and a dwarf no less! Your pa may have mellowed in the last hundred years or so lad, but no' that much!"

Legolas's smile deepened, and he peeked up to smirk at his friend. Ildrith watched the exchange, wondering if it was polite to ask for them to elaborate further. It didn't seem that the elf minded the humour at his father's expense, and Ildrith questioned her hesitations about elvish royalty. She wished his emotions were a little less fragile, so she could just ask him.

"What can you tell me then?" She asked, when there was a silence.

Gimli reclaimed his pipe, and puffed a few times before answering. "Well, I can tell you that I will not stay put for very long."

"Oh?"

Gimli leant forward as he spoke, "You see, the war opened my eyes to many things lass, the biggest of which, now that it is over of course, being the repairs that are needed. We dwarves were once renowned for our talents in architecture and masonry, all over Middle Earth. Now that the shadow is lifting, I feel there is a need to take some of our people and start rebuilding! Make this wretched place shiny once more, if ye kno' what im sayin'!"

Ildrith nodded, "Makes sense to me… Where will you start?"

"Rohan." Said Gimli, with a quick glance at his friend, "I have a, er, certain fondness for the Glittering caves ye see."

Ildrith frowned, "The Glittering caves?"

"Aye, a great cavernous system running right beneath the horse Lord's noses! Up in Helm's Deep. I defy any o' my kin not to fall in love with the place as I have. Oh lass you should see it…"

Gimli successfully entertained Ildrith for a good while with his tales about and plans for the Glittering Caves. Sometime during the tale, Legolas stood up and went to scan the forest again. Ildrith felt a knot of worry start in her belly, but decided it was best for the moment to simply ignore him and listen to the dwarf. Legolas had told her he understood why she had transformed and pounced on him, his words struck the meaning dead on, but still he carried this guilt. She didn't understand it.

…

Sometime later, the forest lightened fractionally, and Ildrith guessed this meant day break. Her stomach growled on cue, and she clutched a hand to it, embarrassed. Legolas turned his eyes from the forest and knelt beside his pack, he rummaged briefly for a time, pulled out some lembas bread and placed it on the floor before Ildrith.

"You should eat something, both of you. We need to move soon."

Ildrith gasped as she noticed him, he looked haggard, his eyes had dark shadows. Her stomach lurched, what darkness must be milling about in his heart to torment him so completely in such a short time?

"Legolas…" She whispered, at a loss. What could she say? He wouldn't listen to her anyway.

Surprisingly, he looked at her when she spoke, and her mouth gaped like a fish. She knew she should say something, he was her friend, and she couldn't just let him wallow like this.

"Ah, you should eat something too."

He shook his head, and stood. Ildrith stood with him.

"Wait," She bit her lip, how far could she push him really?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon the reasonable part of her brain through the fog of magic that clung to it still. "Legolas please…" She willed him to understand, one last stand before she tried to reason with words instead.

He looked down at her, she realised she had grabbed his wrist, and dropped it quickly. His eyes were so dead, his expression completely blank. She felt blood rush to her face, and had the impulse to slap him all of a sudden, just to see him react in some way.

She took a step back, startled at the thought. He was still waiting for her to speak. She ran her fingers through her hair and licked her lips, standing up so quickly had made her head spin. But she had important things to say.

"Look, I know I'm just a kid in your eyes, but I grew up in this world too. My people feel the same pain that yours do, maybe more than you."

Legolas's lips pressed into a tight line, "Not this again, please."

"Yes, this again, Legolas you have to realise how ridiculous you are being!"

"I have said all I will on the matter, I only need to get you to your brothers, safely if possible."

"No, you can't be serious about this!" She felt the magic fog in her mind stirring, she grit her teeth, trying to calm down. "It is our lives, my life, to protect nature. So believe me when I say that I have felt the pain, the guilt that you are feeling. But Legolas, please… You can't let this… thing destroy you like this. Come, sit with us, talk and laugh and eat with us again. I miss you, we miss our friend."

Legolas frowned at her, "You are right." Ildrith's heart skipped a beat, had it really worked? "You are too young to understand truly. You may have seen a part of this war, but you cannot see it in full. You have seen too little of the world to speak with any authority in this matter. Please, sit down and eat some food. We need to move on and I need to concentrate."

Ildrith stepped back, she felt a tad numb for one glorious moment as his words washed over her. Then the irrational, magic fuelled, emotional side of her brain exploded into colour. A whirlwind of feelings coursed through her veins, and she felt chills run down her spine. Differing opinions fought each other within her mind, and she felt herself split in two as the trauma of the past few weeks hit her fully all at once. A small piece of her wondered why it had been Legolas, and his perfectly reasonable argument, that had triggered it, but that small piece was swept away by the chief emotion that was winning over all. Rage.

Bile rose in her throat, and hot, sticky blood pounded in her head. It burned through the awful knot of worry that had been festering in her gut, and she clung to it gratefully. The red hot rage made her feel strong, she encouraged it to sweep her away. The elf and his silly, petty sulking, the dwarf and his cool, seemingly endless patience. She growled and snatched at an errant memory to add to the pile - those damned orcs! She felt the rage grow, and her blood boiled beneath the surface, she seized the magic quicker than she thought possible, but instead of turning, as she suddenly longed to do. She held it in check for a moment longer.

"How dare-? You litt-! Grr! Listen here pointy ears, I don't care if you are the king of the whole damn world!" Legolas's eyes widened as he suddenly noticed the little Beorning seething with anger so intense that her form blurred before him. He took an instinctive step back onto his heels, bracing himself to dive out the way should she snap, where had all this come from? She growled in a very unhuman way, and continued to shout at him. "You have no right to shoulder all this imagined guilt, boo-freaking-who! So you tripped up and let us get swallowed up by the trees, we are alive yes? You don't get to sit there and wallow in self-pity and ruin the trip for the rest of us. And, more importantly, not that I should need to remind you! My brothers are out there somewhere, probably dead, slain by orcs just like the rest of them." Her breath hitched, and she summoned even more anger to fuel her words and keep the unexplainably intense grief that had sprung up, at bay. "I frankly don't have time to put up with your childish tantrum, now sit down damn you, or I'll change back into the other form and find my own way home."

"Lass?" Gimli said warily, and she snapped her eyes to his. His form was distorted, like she was seeing him with two sets of eyes, she blinked and turned away, unable to fully appreciate the confusion that failed to appear.

The elf held both his hands open at his sides, fingers twitching as he considered what to do. He couldn't quite wrap his head around what was happening, was she in danger, or the danger?

She growled at him and shook her head. "Fine, be like that. I'll find my own way." She turned on her heels and began to stomp in the opposite direction to the elf.

Fuelled by rage, she didn't really stop to question the implications of leaving the elf's protective influence. She stumbled after only a few short strides, and her lungs burnt as though she was about to change. She coughed once, and was shocked to hear the strangled roar of a bear burst forth. She shook her head, it was not her intent to shift yet, and certainly not like this.

The change seemed to want to happen in spite of herself. She shook her head and kept walking, the rage was shifting too. It became a living thing, and slipped out of her control. The magic sprung forth of its own accord, feeding off of the rage that writhed in her body. She collapsed her legs, and knelt on the ground as if she was about to be sick.

This magic scared her, it felt wrong, evil even, as it evaded her control and fought to change her body of its own volition.

It was disconcerting to say the least, to feel something feral, and much stronger than herself reach out from the depths of her mind and firmly push her aside. That was the last coherent thought that she knew for a while.

…

The bear meandered gracelessly through the underbrush, unaware that it was being tracked carefully. The passage of time was meaningless as it moved steadily Northward, drawn helplessly to the warmth of the elves magic near Thranduil's Halls. It stopped from time to time to nibble at the berries on nearby shrubbery, and drink gratefully from the streams it passed periodically.

Ildrith was in there somewhere, she saw glimpses of what the bear felt, but there was a film of dark-red magic that prevented her from regaining control of her body. As the bear meandered peacefully through the trees, Ildrith burned. She screamed noiselessly as fire ravaged her unseen body, the rage had started it yes, but this was another thing entirely.

She felt like she had when the forest's shadow had caught her, as though she was in a trance, and unable to wake herself up. Except this time there was unimaginable pain to go with it. Now and again she thought she heard laughter, malicious and delighted. Someone was watching her burn, and enjoying the sight. She tried to focus on it, on anything, she fought to regain control of her body, so she could run away from the fire. The laughter turned to whispers, and Ildrith sobbed alone in the dark, wishing she could drown it out as the words started to make sense amidst all the pain.

The bear shook its head occasionally as it felt a gnat-like buzzing between its ears. The creature itself was not evil, nor was it possessed by an evil spirit. It simply was.

It wandered into a clearing made by the wood-elves one day. A place so pure and full of healing magic that the barrier between Ildrith's mind and that of her bear-form dropped.

Ildrith fell on the cool grass gratefully. No, grateful is too dull of an expression for the relief she felt. She was free. The fire had stopped, and all she could think about was curling into a ball and sobbing. But that wasn't possible in this form, the bear's mind helped her shield herself from the overwhelming load of emotions that threatened to come now that she had a body to feel them in.

The bear turned its nose to the air, and she breathed the free air deeply, savouring every cool breath as it rattled down her throat. Ildrith felt her claws dig in the dirt, and rubbed her fur against the rough bark of a nearby tree. She spent a day and a night in the glade, dozing peacefully, and enjoying the presence of mother-nature and nothing else. She dreamed peaceful dreams, and felt that it wasn't so bad to be like this. Whatever malicious magic had seized her previously couldn't touch her here. She was pure and free, safe from the horror that the darkness wanted to inflict on her. If she stayed like this, then she could find her brothers in no time, the elves were not far away, she could feel them. Her brothers would be with them, in this form there was no possibility that they could be dead. She twitched her nose, thoughts of them were safe, the bear's mind welcomed them freely.

She felt safe after one more day, knowing that the rage-tinged magic was far away, it couldn't reach her here in this peaceful form. She fell asleep at the edge of the glade, unaware that as she slumbered, she rolled too far from the elves protective magic, and in the night, she was pushed away from her bear-self, back into the little Beorning girl who slumbered peacefully in the leaves.

She awoke in the early hours of dawn, and her mind was immediately assaulted by red-tinged rage. She whimpered and clutched her head, why? She thought she was safe!

That hideous voice from before returned, it raked its cruel fingers across her peaceful mind, stirring up all the darkness and turmoil from before. The shadows stole into her mind and sapped away all the good that she had just started to feel, but she was not yet far enough away from the elves magic for the darkness to seize her completely.

She managed to suck a breath of cool air between her teeth, and the motion allowed her to feel that there was some fear amid all the anger. She clung to it, embracing the icy tendrils until they began to morph at the edges into sunny relief. Her heart beat, now that she could feel it again, raced ahead of the anger, cooling all the scorching heat until Ildrith felt a little more normal, and utterly terrified. She sat upright, back on her heels, and then curled her feet round so she could cuddle her knees. Her mind was too muddled to comprehend the change that had happened, once more, without her permission.

The magic was still there, masquerading as the rage that she carefully frogmarched into a cage and squashed until all it could do was fume and beat against the bars. She squeezed her eyes firmly shut, and fought against it, trying to remember techniques half heard from a conversation that wasn't hers. The longer she thought about it, the more it fell under her control, until eventually she couldn't feel the dark magic at all. Until all she was left with was a head full of fear and questions.

A warm hand touched her arm, ripping her from the world of the imaginary so suddenly that she screamed and dove to the side. Her eyes opened and she struggled to find a memory that made sense, there was something tall crouched before her, hunting her surely as it followed her through the leaves, out of the protection of the glade. She cried out again, and her voice was all wrong, it should be deep like thunder, not high and frightened like a - human. She started to realise what was happening. The bear was still in control, whatever she had caged within her mind, it hadn't been her magic.

She spared a glance down, and tried to tell her eyes that fingers were in fact the correct digits to find there. Her back bumped against a tree, and she curled her feet so that her knees bumped against her bare chest.

The creature that stalked her was friendly, an elf, she recognised him… Legolas. His name registered in her mind, and brought with it the final clarity that allowed herself to return to being just Ildrith.

Legolas stopped just before her, his hands held up as though taming a frightened beast. She took a few moments to get her breathing under control.

Her words were almost lost as she struggled to speak, "I'm sorry." Her voice wobbled and she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." She buried her face in her hands, her skin ashen with shock.

Legolas knelt before her, his eyes full of concern, but unsure what he could do to help her. He was just so relieved to find her, he would sit here in the dirt beside her all day if that's what it took. Still at a loss however, he settled for making soothing noises as he would for a frightened steed. He slowly brought his hands to her own, meaning to gather her to himself so he could return them more securely to the glade. As his hand brushed hers she flinched and cried out.

"No! Don't touch me." She scooted right up against the tree, and some bark scraped off and landed in her wild hair. Legolas backed off immediately, and Ildrith hugged her legs and ducked her head, "Leave me alone, I'm… I might hurt you. Just stay back, don't touch me."

She started to cry, which made her grit her teeth in irritation. As soon as that feeling touched her heart she cried out again, and panic chased it right away, "No! No more, please!" Her tears came hot and fast, and she started to blubber, "I don't understand! Just… what to do. Please just tell me…" Legolas watched her carefully, catching the odd word here and there and started to piece together an explanation of sorts. "…can't control... Tell me how to control it… how to stop… Lytham…knows… Lytham…dead! …teach me? No-one can help me… dangerous, I can't control it."

He shushed her, and leant forward to catch her wrists, feeling it was probably better for everyone if he broke her free of this terrified daze she was wrapped in.

As he touched her this time her breath hitched, and her eyes whipped to catch his. They weren't entirely human, but the fear was real, and he could tell she recognised him now.

She gripped his wrists painfully and pulled herself forward, until she knelt between his knees. Her breath was hot, and thick with blood as she pulled herself close and pushed their hands together and into her stomach. He frowned, surprised to feel he was suddenly holding something other than her. She dug her nails into his wrists and his attention snapped back to her eyes, they were wild. She leant closer, their hands still between them, and when she spoke he tasted blood.

"Kill me!" she said.

That was when he realised what she had put in his hands, it was one of his own hunting knives, and the sharp edge bit through her skin as she pressed it against her heart. He released the blade, but she held his fingers firmly between her hands.

She scooted even closer, desperation entered her eyes and she pushed the blade towards herself.

"Please, Legolas, you have to! I can't control it! You have to kill me before I…"

Legolas snatched his hands back, the knife cluttered to the ground, and he grabbed her wrists before she had a chance to repeat the motion.

"Ildrith no, stop this."

Fresh tears welled in her eyes and her bottom lip wobbled, "Legolas, please… I don't know how to stop it, I don't know how to turn it off."

"Yes you do, look at yourself now. You are here, you are human. Your brothers will teach you the rest."

She closed her eyes and sobbed, "No, they can't! You don't understand, I saw them."

Legolas frowned, but jumped at the chance to distract her. "What are you talking about? What did you see?"

Her breath hitched and she whispered, "Before when I was lost, before you found me, I saw them die. They are gone Legolas, I can feel it." He started to shake his head and she raised her voice, "It's true! I know what I saw wasn't real, but that doesn't mean it's not true! They are dead, and now I have no-one. There is no-one who can help me, no-one who can teach me to control it. And I can't, Legolas, I can't control it. I can feel it here," She tapped her head, and let her hand stay there, her fingers curled into claws and she pulled at her hair and skin. "It's too strong for me, I don't know how to stop it."

Legolas reached up and reclaimed her hand, pulling it away to stop her from hurting herself anymore. "It's not real." He said, "Ildrith listen to me!" He shook her gently, and she focused on his eyes, "It's not real. That is just the darkness talking, it spins fantastic tales." She shook her head, but he squeezed her wrists tighter, "No, listen to me. I have felt it too, I fought in the wars of the ring. I travelled with the darkness for a long time. Believe me when I say that I have felt this too. I know what it whispers to you, and I know how easy it is to believe what it tells you." Her sobbing quieted some, and he breathed easier, letting her reclaim her hands carefully.

"I can taste their blood." She said sadly.

He cringed, not needing an explanation for that one. "I know." He said simply, "It doesn't get any easier, but you should know that the lives you took were justified."

She closed her eyes again, "I hunted them the way the men in the villages hunt the animals. We spent our whole lives fighting against that sort of mindless slaughter, and I fell into it so easily. That's what I know I can't control anymore, that's the red hot magic that will destroy me. And you, and anyone else that gets in the way. You can't deny this one, you are not like me. They taught us when we were younger, and those who wanted to they took aside and taught to control it. But I never wanted this kind of life, and I thought I could avoid it, let the bloodlust pass me by, but I felt it. I spent so long being burned by it, if I let it take me again, it will twist me. Some of my kind do though, there are some who get sucked in and twisted by the magic, and I can see how. It burned me, and I wanted to die, I wanted to give in. It wouldn't let me, so I pleaded with it, and it started to whisper, if I gave in to it, the pain would stop. I just wanted it to stop!" She closed her eyes and squirmed, terrible images flashed behind her eyes and she opened them with renewed purpose. "Latham was going to teach me, just in case. But he's…" her voice broke and she ducked her head. "He's gone too now… There's no one left."

"You are not alone, you will never be alone."

He knew that there would be a place for her no matter where she decided to go, she was such a rare beauty in a horribly broken world. It baffled him that she could think any other way, he couldn't understand half of what she was saying, but he knew that she needed help. All this talk of death and burning frightened him to the core, he didn't know how to deal with a situation so delicate. Arrows and knives couldn't defeat this kind of darkness.

She lifted her eyes to his, and he cupped her face gently, whipping at her tears with his thumbs. Her eyes were her own once more, and her breathing slowly calmed so that her nostrils no longer flared with each breath. He smiled weakly, perhaps all she needed was quiet, and calm.

She held his gaze for a long time, he was not happy about what he saw there behind her eyes, but at least she no longer fought him so entirely. After some time she slumped before him, her body went limp as she leant back against the tree behind her. He watched her carefully, and she met his gaze with an almost lazy smile.

"I can see them." She said quietly, and his gut clenched, some instinct ringing warning bells in the back of his mind.

He looked down in alarm. Her pale fingers still clung limply to his hunting knife, which she had used to sever the delicate veins in her wrists.

"Ildrith, no!"


	6. A Home-coming

Ildrith opened her eyes slowly, she felt as though she were waking up from a wonderful dream into one of those mornings when the petrichor had weaselled its way into her room during the night.  
She took a deep breath, the smell was all wrong, and her ears seemed to be ringing too much to pick up the sound of her breathing, but the feeling was there. Peace, happiness, a generalised lack of nastiness. She struggled through some sluggish memories, and wondered how it was possible to feel so calm after all that had happened. Her last memory was hard to put together, so many voices were tugging on her mind, and she just wanted it to end. Now, and here, in this warm, soft bed, it seemed impossible.  
She wanted to sit up, to explore the room that was attached to the dimly lit ceiling above her. The air was chilly, in the way that only warm houses can get during the darkest winter nights, but it wasn’t the cold that stopped her from rising. She pieced together enough of a story from the fragments of murky memories to guess that Legolas had stopped her in time, and that she was in Thranduil’s Halls. She must be, what other place could one wake up in feeling so completely safe?  
She turned her head to the side, and found the room was huge, too big to be a bedroom surely. There were numerous lights, of unintelligible sources, scattered about the room, keeping it just lit enough that she could see into all the corners but not discern details. There was a bookshelf, or two? She stopped craning her neck and closed her eyes. Nausea, and fatigue washed over her in waves. Maybe she was at home, caught up in a fever dream?  
Something cold touched her forehead, and adrenaline jolted her upright. A bowl of sorts clattered to the ground, and then her ears started ringing again. The nausea had disappeared, but dizziness had her slump back against the wall, or possibly a headboard, either way, something hard and cold caught her. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply through her nostrils, it was just an elf, and elves were good. She could lay back and focus on righting the world, the elf could be explained away later.  
Something rocked her, a hand was warm on her shoulder, she hmf’d in acknowledgement, and then slowly opened her eyes once more.  
The light was brighter, the warmth of the room accentuated by natural browns and yellows illuminated in the furniture. She rolled her eyes around, trying to get them to focus on something, but the dizziness was winning. She groaned, and the hands turned to arms, which helped her swing her legs over the edge of the bed and keep her upright while she hung her head and reoriented herself.  
A very small part of her worried about getting sick on the elf, what if it was Legolas? The thought made her chuckle, before a wave of guilt washed away her spinning head, and she lifted her head. The elf had wide brown eyes, and lovely chestnut hair. Ildrith cautiously straightened her back, and sighed when her head behaved itself. She realised that she was clutching the poor elf’s shoulder quite hard, and dropped her hand with an apologetic smile. The action brought pain, and she looked down. The sight of clothes brought a moment of relief which was closely followed by confusion and then shame as she realised there was bandaging on her left forearm. She moved her fingers, and felt an awful tightness beneath the bandage. She cringed, and stuck the arm against her side, out of sight.  
Glancing at the elf, Ildrith realised the wobbly noises that she had been ignoring thus far, were speech. She shook her head sharply, and yawned a few times.  
“Sorry?” her own voice was felt, but not heard clearly. She tried yawning again, and felt one of her ears pop, allowing some semblance of sound to pierce through.  
“Are you alright?” The elf asked, and Ildrith was startled to find that the astonishingly pretty being was a male.  
“Yes,” She said automatically, and then cringed, “Ah I mean no. I don’t know. Where am I?”  
“You are in the healing house, in the house of Thranduil, Mirkwood to be exact.”  
Ildrith nodded to herself, and bit her lip. She studied the elf for a moment. He exuded calm, just as she imagined an ancient being adept at healing would. More importantly, he didn’t seem to be harbouring any judgement towards her.  
She opened her mouth to speak, and felt a terrible fatigue claim her voice. She wobbled a bit, grateful that the elf was there to steady her, and tried again. “How long?...” She took a few deep breaths, and suddenly found that the elf had returned her to her original prone position. She cleared her throat, “How long have I been… Like this?”  
He pressed his lips together in thought, “Prince Legolas brought you here three days ago. He has not said much about what condition you were in before.”  
Ildrith closed her eyes and wearily pushed away the many questions that jumped to the front of her mind. Everything else could wait for later. “Are there…” She closed her mouth, another annoying wave of fatigue washed over her, stealing her words away. “Are they here?” She managed to get out, her eyes popped open, only a fraction though it felt like she was holding them wide open like a gargoyle.  
“Who?” Asked the elf patiently.  
“My brothers.” Said Ildrith, desperate that the elf should simply understand. They are intelligent beings, surely he didn’t need further explanation. She opened her eyes onto a smile, and her heart thumped happily.  
“They never leave.” He said warmly.  
Ildrith closed her eyes, the information too heavy to be tackled properly. She let the relief carry her away, and gave in to the sleep that had half claimed her already.  
The elf carefully tucked her in, brushing her hair back so that when they came back, they would be able to see the smile that touched her lips still.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Lytham paced, he felt sure there would be a path in the floor before the elves finished their discussion. He hated leaving his sister’s side, especially for this nonsense about a party. What on earth Othar was doing, humouring these creatures was beyond him. The only thing that mattered was Ildrith. There was so much that needed to be answered for still.  
He felt his blood boil, thinking of that arrogant princeling that has dragged her in nearly dead, only to disappear and evade all forms of questions. No-one seemed all that concerned with answers, and Othar simply smiled and ruffled his hair whenever he started talking about it. It was infuriating really. These creatures were far too laid back for his liking. Especially now. He let out a deep sigh to the ceiling, it was his own choice to leave the meeting, but he had gotten himself hopelessly lost trying to find his way back to Ildrith, and was too proud to ask for help. So here he was, once again, pacing back and forth outside the great stone hall.  
Ten more minutes he waited, and then the voices within grew louder, and Othar walked out, he had the audacity to chuckle to himself. When he looked up, or down rather, into the fuming eyes of his brother, his smile deepened, but not cruelly.  
He poured true compassion and sympathy into his voice as he walked past Lytham and gestured for him to follow. “I am sorry brother, I had hoped you would be with Ildrith by now, and remain oblivious to our ramblings.”  
Lytham rolled his eyes. He bit back a smart retort, and calmed his thoughts. “No, it is I who should apologise. I’m just worried about her. She lost so much blood, but she should be awake by now. And I just can’t stand…” he took another calming breath and looked around sheepishly. “I am just a little confused about all this importance over a party, when my sister is lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life.”  
Othar ran a hand through his hair, his remaining fingers traced the baldness where the scars had formed. He had to remember, Lytham had paced these halls before, back when he had been dragged in from the war, too broken for the Human’s to heal. To be thrust back into that routine again so soon, it was cruel.  
“I understand, and truly I am sorry. Next time just poke your head back in. I know you’d never return unless the situation was dire!”  
Lytham smiled tightly, he was only paying a small amount of attention. His primary focus was on the hallways, trying to figure out exactly where his wrong turn had been.  
They came upon the healing rooms just as Echanar was leaving.  
Lytham rushed forward immediately, “How is she?” He asked in a bluster.  
Echanar smiled patiently, “See for yourself my lords.”  
Lytham pushed past him, leaving Othar to account for his abrupt rudeness.  
“Ildrith?!” He almost shouted as he came to the foot of her bed. She was still fast asleep, and Lytham frowned in confusion, nothing had changed.  
Othar ambled up to her bed and sat beside her on the blanket. He sucked in a low whistle and then laughed. “Thank all the Gods!”  
Lytham stood up and rushed around the side of the bed, “What?”  
His eyes glanced all over her prone form, covered by blankets though it was. Only after his soldiers eyes calmed enough to see her face clearly, did he notice the smallest smile that turned up the corners of her mouth.  
Tears filled his eyes, and he laughed once in relief. At this moment, Echanar came back into the room with a fresh bowl of water and a warm towel.  
Lytham turned to him, “What does this mean? Is she… Is she going to be alright?”  
Echanar set his bowl down, and took his time wetting the cloth, and wringing it dry. Only as he was folding it to place on her forehead, did he answer, “An hour ago she became restless, as I moved to wipe away the sweat that had gathered from her dreams she woke.” Lytham gasped, and Othar shushed him. “She is still very weak, and confused. She asked after you, and when I told her you were here she fell back to sleep, this smile in place.”  
Othar looked down at her and smoothed her hair fondly. “Thank you Echanar. This gives me great hope.”  
Echanar nodded, and started to wipe her brow. Lytham sat at her other side, and took her injured hand in his own.  
“You should get some sleep.” Said Echanar, the boys looked at him helplessly. He smiled kindly, “You need not leave her side, there are plenty of beds to pull up beside her if you wish. I only fear that she will sleep another full day to recover from this wakening. When she does rise again, I am sure she will be grateful to find her brothers not just by her side, but rested enough to spend time with her.”  
Othar nodded, and ran his hands through his hair. He was quite tired, the meeting had been called after dinner, and the sun had set a while back, though it was not always easy to tell in the deepest part of the caves.  
“Thank you Echanar. You can get some rest too, I’m sure she will have questions for you too!”  
He chuckled and wrung out the cloth one final time. “Allow me to tie back her hair, then she will be more comfortable when she wakes.”  
Lytham raised an eyebrow, but gave up his seat so the elf could fuss over his sister. His hackles raised as Echanar took the damp cloth and wiped around her neck and ears, but he kept his peace. The cleanliness process having already been explained numerous times to him during Othar’s turn here.  
When Echanar was happy that his patient was well cared for, he helped them push two beds from either side of her closer, and then closed the door behind him as he headed out for the night. He knew they would wake him if anything changed, and the King had set guards at her door so they could call for him at any time.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
It was early in the morning, before sunrise, that Ildrith woke once more. Again, she was almost overwhelmed by the feeling of peace that settled over her. This time however, she felt a bit better, her mind was clearer, and her ears were not ringing quite so badly. She still felt monstrously weak, but managed to turn her head to the right without bringing on any dizziness.  
She gasped, Othar! At this small noise, his eyes popped open. He sat up, and called out to Lytham, who was already awake and crawling off his bed to kneel before her on hers.  
“Othar? Lytham?” She whispered, tears welling in her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. “Is it really? Are you really?” She choked, and spluttered.  
Othar grabbed the cloth by her bedside, and helped wipe her tears. Lytham called for the guard, and when one poked his head around the door, sent him off to wake Echanar.  
“Shhh,” muttered Othar, “It’s alright, we are here.”  
Ildrith spluttered, “I don’t believe, are you really?” She flailed about, adrenaline enhanced her clumsiness as she tried to free her hands and sit up.  
Lytham guessed at her actions, and together they propped her upright and freed her hands.  
She ignored the tugging on her injuries, and touched both of their cheeks with each hand. They leant in to her touch, and rested their foreheads against hers, Othar placed his hand around her slight shoulders and Lytham cradled her waist, she hiccupped, so overwhelmed with happiness that words escaped her.  
When they broke their embrace, Lytham was crying, and even Othar wiped at his eyes before passing Ildrith the cloth. She hiccupped again and leant against the headboard. Echanar suddenly burst through the doors, dressing gown flailing and hair flying as he raced to her side. He pushed Lytham’s abandoned bed out the way and stood before her, as dishevelled as the boys had ever seen him.  
Ildrith giggled and ducked her head behind Othar’s great form, shy in the pretty elf-man’s presence. By the time she looked up again, he had tied his hair back and fixed his dressing gown, looking more like a count than a doctor.  
“It is very heartening to see you up, child.” Ildrith hiccupped at him, and clung to Othar, making Echanar smile. He moved slowly, and knelt slowly beside her. “How do you feel?”  
She peek around Othar’s arm, “Alright,” She peeked at her brothers, “better!” And laughed.  
Echanar smiled, “You brother’s tell me you are a healer?” Ildrith nodded shyly with a hiccup, and he continued, “You can understand then, that I wish to examine you?”  
She nodded her consent, and allowed Othar to push her gently away and back onto her headboard. Echanar stood back up, and proceeded to prod and poke her in some familiar, some unfamiliar ways. She knew he was checking her dehydration, and state of anaemia primarily. At one point, Lytham almost intervened, as Echanar jabbed her finger and squeezed a drop of blood out into a vile of some bluish liquid. The blood sank only a fraction, and the elf frowned at it briefly.  
He smiled tightly and told them to hang tight while he went to prepare her a tincture, now that she was well enough to take her medicine properly. He was back before the siblings could do more than giggle at each other.  
A short female elf strode into the room, a bowl of something deliciously steamy in her hands, her and Echanar returned to Ildrith’s bedside together, and all three Beornings sniffed the air appreciatively.  
“Hanta Mariel.” Said Echanar as he took the bowl from the elf, who scuttled off with a small curtsy. He carefully handed the howl to Othar, and produced a spoon from one of his great pockets. “I’m sorry my dear,” He said with a cheeky smile, “but for now you must take this tincture as it is, when you are well again, I will hide it in your soup.”  
He handed Ildrith a small brown glass vile, already unstoppered for her. She took it with both hands, scared of dropping the precious liquid, and made the mistake of sniffing it before she drank.  
Her nose wrinkled in distaste, “What on earth is in this?”  
Echanar’s gentle smile returned, “It is a mixture of herbs and oils of my own concoction, designed to help you rebuild your blood.”  
She frowned at it and closed her eyes, drinking the mix in one gulp. As it went down she coughed and spluttered, but held up her hand to calm her brothers as she composed herself. When she could talk, her voice was rough.  
“Ergh! That was foul! What exactly is in it?”  
“Madder, to purify the blood, and support your liver. Meadowsweet to keep the fever at bay. Valerian to help you sleep, and willow for the pain. Finally some garlic to improve your circulation.”  
Ildrith nodded along, sucking at her teeth to try rid herself of the taste. Echanar glanced at Othar, but he was already stirring the soup, and brought a spoonful to her lips.  
Ildrith frowned at him, but opened her mouth. She closed her eyes again, but this time in appreciation, when she opened them again she hummed.  
“Delicious!” Her voice was faint, as her energy faded, but the fire in her eyes turned on Othar and she said, “You don’t have to spoon feed me, brother-mine. I am not a child.”  
Othar smiled patiently, and brought another spoon to her lips. “When you can manage half an hour without wobbling over and falling asleep during conversations, then you can feed yourself. Until then…” He let the sentence drag off, as Ildrith proved his point by sighing back against the head rest, and closing her eyes.  
“’M not falling asleep, silly boy. I’m just… Resting…” With that, she was asleep.  
Lytham raised his eyebrows and looked at Echanar, “Is that normal? Is she alright?”  
Echanar nodded, “Oh yes, she is just weak. The excitement of your presence kept her more alert than she should have been, she will be stronger every time she rises from now on. Of that I am sure, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, he turned away and left, closing the door behind him.  
Othar sighed, quite content, and started eating the soup.  
“Othar!” Exclaimed Lytham in a shrill whisper.  
Othar shrugged and carried on. Lytham swiped at the soup over Ildrith’s prone form, and Othar pulled the soup away.  
“Uh-uh,” he nodded to the door, “Get your own!”  
Lytham stared at him agape, “Bah! You get your own!”  
Othar chuckled and took one more heaped spoonful, before passing Lytham the bowl.  
His brother frowned and shook his head. Othar shrugged, “What?”  
Lytham rolled his eyes, “That is for our sister you oaf!”  
Othar chuckled, “She won’t miss it.” Lytham’s eyes bulged and it was Othar’s turn to roll his eyes, “Do you really think they’ll serve their guests second hand soup? Cold at that?”  
Lytham looked down, and then shrugged and held out his hand.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Over the next few days, Ildrith was able to stay awake for longer, but still slept soundly most of the time. She was thoroughly confused about the passing of time, but roughly worked out that every 5 or so small naps must mean twelve hours, as that was when Echanar would bring her medicine.  
The second time she woke to see her brothers had been rough. She tried to force herself to be awake for them, and they in turn tried to answer her questions. It ended in tears, as she struggled to make sense of their words, finding simple tasks harder and harder to do the longer she forced her eyes to stay open. Eventually Echanar had returned to check on his patient, and thrown the boys out so he could sedate poor Ildrith. He had set on them like a rabid squirrel in the hallway, and they promised to avoid touchy topics until the physician himself gave them permission.  
They spoke about the elves, and the differences between the community life here verses the life they knew and loved from back home. Ildrith laughed at the barely hidden distaste behind Lytham’s words, and found herself in awe of how Othar had already gained the King’s confidence.  
When Ildrith found she was waking up without ringing ears, and could finish a whole bowl of the delicious healing broth in one sitting, Echanar declared she was well enough to get out of bed by herself and walk the length of the hall so long as she had a brother on either side. They continued to talk about inconsequential things, until one day Ildrith returned to her bed after walking the entire length of the hall by herself, without the dizziness returning.  
When she climbed back into bed, she bunched up the pillows and leant back gratefully, but kept her eyes open so she could keep talking to her siblings.  
She took a deep breath, “Phew!”  
Lytham sat beside her as always, and stroked her hair back, “How do you feel?”  
Ildrith nodded and squeezed his fingers, “Better, that time wasn’t so bad.”  
Othar chuckled, “And the dwarf tells me you wanted to learn how to fight!”  
Lytham stiffened beside her, and Ildrith gasped. “You spoke to Gimli?”  
Othar smiled, and shot Lytham a quick warning glance. He wanted to test her it seemed.  
“Yes, he is quite a jolly fellow.”  
Ildrith felt inexplicably sad for a moment, and quickly brushed away the tears that formed so suddenly.  
Lytham glared at Othar and cradled Ildrith’s face, “Shhh sis, what is it?”  
She squeezed her eyes tight against the headache that formed behind her eyes asnd shook her head, “I don’t know.” She pursed her lips in thought, and Lytham turned away to glare at other with even more venom than before.  
“What is wrong with you?!”  
Ildrith hushed him and left her hand on his arm, “No, it’s alright. I do want to know, have you seen him lots? Is he still here? And Legolas? Are they…” She hiccupped and shut her mouth, grinding her teeth against the tears.  
Othar watched her carefully, let her compose herself before he answered. “We see him at almost every meal. The prince however, has remained elusive. Neither Lytham nor myself have met him yet.”  
Ildrith frowned and tried to count back on her fingers. She shook her head, giving up the game, “How long have I been here?”  
“Only ten days.”  
Ildrith gaped, “Ten days?!” She fell back against the pillows, her hand draped dramatically across her forehead. “How am I still tired?”  
Lytham answered without thinking, “You lost a lot of blood sis.” His teeth clapped audibly as he slammed his mouth shut, he had meant the phrase to be supportive, to remind her that it is alright to be weak still, but then remembered too late the circumstances under which that blood loss had occurred, and Echanar’s strict warning to stay away from such topics.  
He peeked a glance at Ildrith, but she was staring into space, her right hand tickling her bandaged left arm absently. His eyes pleaded apology to Othar, but his brother simply shook his head and shrugged.  
Ildrith’s eyes snapped back into focus and she smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, I zoned out. I guess I understand though, why they haven’t been to see me. I didn’t exactly leave things on the best of terms, with either of them.”  
Othar frowned, his eyes a dangerous shade of annoyance. Lytham bit his lip, his only thoughts of condolence for the poor elf and dwarf who had slighted their sister.  
Othar’s voice was gentle however, and he tucked his sister in. “Don’t worry Ildrith, you have been in no condition to receive visitors in any case.”  
Lytham breathed in relief, “Yes, exactly, I mean just look at your hair!”  
Ildrith giggled and swatted at him. He skilfully dodged, and then leant down to fondly kiss her forehead. “Sleep well little sis.”  
She smiled happily, and said goodnight to each of them.  
The boys left, and Othar closed the door softly behind himself before turning to the empty hall and straightening to his full height menacingly. Lytham suppressed a chuckle, his older brother always seemed to grow even more massive when someone was about to get an earful.  
“Come little brother,” He said in a deep grumbly baritone, “it’s time we paid the little princeling a visit.”


	7. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have bent the timeline, for those of you who are attuned to the events after the war, and who have picked up on the little hints I have been dropping about the next few chapters. But for the sake of my tale, I have taken artistic licence, it doesn’t change much, but if there is some small niggling in your mind telling you the dates are off… Well it’s true, and I ask that you ignore the specifics as much as possible, to better enjoy the story.

The great halls were full to bursting with wood elves feasting and making merriment. It was dinner time in Mirkwood, and there was a party looming on the horizon, spirits were high, and wine flowed freely. A few elves turned their heads however, when the massive Beorning, and his brother entered the hall. There was something menacing about the way the older one’s eyes searched the room, coming to a stop by the throne where King Thranduil sat cradling a goblet of wine.  
The king met his eye, and beckoned him forth. They made their way through the crowds, returning the odd greeting and answering questions about their sister’s health with good grace. There was a small area clear around the King’s great stone chair as he descended the staircase halfway to meet his guests. Othar barely had to look up to speak with the elf king, and Thranduil’s eyes set stubbornly against this informal slight.  
“Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo.” Othar said in greeting.  
“Mae govannen,” replied the king graciously, “What can I do for you?”  
Othar inclined his head, “My apologies your grace, I simply wanted to ask after your son.”  
Thranduil’s nostrils flared, but he maintained his regal air. “You are most kind, Legolas is doing very well.”  
The touch of a frown lowered Othar’s mouth, but he smiled, “I am pleased to hear it. Forgive me for the intrusion, but I was more inquiring about his whereabouts.”  
Thranduil smiled impishly, “And why would you need to know that?”  
“My sister has asked after him.”  
Thranduil frowned, and all at once dropped the theatrics, “Ildrith is asking after my son? Why?”  
Othar raised his eyebrows, Lytham couldn’t hold his tongue any longer, thrown as he was by the king’s change in attitude. “I would imagine it has something to do with him dragging her through your gates half dead, your majesty. I’m sure she has as many questions as myself on the matter.” He dared to add after a pause.  
Thranduil’s eyes darkened. “I assure you it was not my son who-”  
Othar held up his hands, intervening with haste, “Peace, we didn’t mean it like that. I simply wish to speak with him, to thank him even. Whatever happened in the forest, your son saved our sister’s life.”  
Thranduil; relaxed infinitesimally, and seemed to slump in on himself. “Well, in that case…” He seemed about to say more, then glanced up and saw many curious eyes watching their conversation. He brought a hand to his brows, and rubbed them wearily. He lowered his voice and said, “In truth, Legolas is not himself.”  
Othar huffed out the breath he had been holding, “Oh.” Being the only word he could manage. “Uh, is there anything we can do to help?”  
The king smiled ruefully, “Unfortunately not, but I feel you should be warned, Legolas has never been like his kin, you may find his mood unpredictable.”  
Lytham frowned, “Why are you telling us this?”  
Thranduil turned his attention to the smaller Beorning, “I mean to caution you young master. I wouldn’t want my son to cause insult.”  
Othar held his hands out, “It won’t come to that I assure you.”  
Thranduil studied them for a long while, eventually he shrugged and took a sip of his wine. “Go to him then, if you must. Ask one of my guards to escort you to his chambers.”  
He turned around, his face oddly impassive, and ascended his staircase to sit once more upon his throne.  
Othar rubbed a hand through his hair, and turned away with a shrug. He sought out a guard, and found one walking towards them already. He straightened out and prepared to introduce himself.  
As the guard neared them he spoke, “Follow me.”  
Othar exchanged a look with his brother and they trailed along obediently. Lytham was soon lost among all the twists and turns, and Othar was certain the guard was taking an unnecessarily complicated route to ensure their confusion.  
The guard deposited them before a set of tall oak doors, and then abruptly turned and stalked away.  
Lytham stared after him, and called out “Thanks,” with as much sarcasm as he could muster.  
Othar smacked his brother on the back of the head and then turned to knock on the door. The lack of answer didn’t surprise him, the lack of lock on the door did. He pushed it open cautiously, happy to find the interior was open and well lit, not at all the dungeon he was fearing.  
Before he could take two steps, an elf appeared before him. He was blond, like his father, but not quite as good at hiding his anger.  
The elf’s irritation quickly turned to surprise, which faded to guilt before he slipped on an impassive mask and stepped closer to greet them properly.  
“Mae govannen,” he said quickly, with a regal bow.  
Othar replied in turn, and then introduced them both.  
Legolas breathed evenly through his nose, and introduced himself, “I am Legolas Thranduillion. It is an honour to meet you at last.”  
“You know of us?” Asked Othar politely.  
Legolas bowed his head, the slightest hint of some unkind emotion tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, the lady Ildrith spoke very highly of you.”  
“Yes, well…” Othar ran a hand through his hair, “It should please you then, to hear that our sister is awake.”  
Legolas’s impassive mask slipped once more, “That is wonderful news.” He said blandly, “You must be relieved.”  
Othar grumbled, quickly tiring of the charade. “Look elf, I am not going to insult us both by pretending to understand what you have been through. Nor shall I question the connection you have with my beloved sister, but I am giving you until tomorrow evening to make amends.” Legolas’s eyes bulged, and he took an involuntary step back. “If she sheds one more tear on your behalf…”  
Legolas felt the aggression and tension that had been building ebb from his muscles, he squeezed his eyes shut to process the information. He took a few extra calming breaths, working on chasing away the crippling guilt and shame that threatened to crush him right here in front of the strangers.  
When he opened his eyes, they were blank, “Thank you, if she is well enough, then I will come.”  
Other grunted, his expression the strangest mix of concern and hostility. He shook his head, this elf was a coward, and he had hurt their sister - possibly. Either way there was no room for pity in his heart for such a being. “Don’t lie to her,” he cautioned, “whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night is not for her to bear.”  
Legolas narrowed his eyes, “I do not know what you mean.”  
Othar raised an eyebrow, “Yes you do. I know Echanar told your father the second she started to wake, and I know that he relayed the message.”  
Legolas seethed, and then hung his head, “Of course I knew she was awake, but why would she want to see me when all she wanted was to find you?”  
Othar’s thunderous expression remained intact, “Like I said, I won’t pretend to know anything about what happened in that forest. All I care about is her, and at this moment she wants you. The second that that changes, I will leave you to sulk undisturbed in your room.”  
Legolas’s impassive expression shattered, and darkness seeped into his eyes. “I think you should leave now. I believe dinner has been served.”  
He turned away and stalked back into his rooms, disappearing from sight and sound. Othar took a deep breath and stared after the elf. Lytham placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, no words would help in this moment, and no more were truly needed.  
“Come,” said Lytham, shrugging off the juvenile part of him that had wanted Othar’s words to lead into a fight. “Let us get some food.”  
Othar nodded, and they set off for the noisy hall, the tension slowly rolling off their shoulders at the prospect of mead and merriment. Lytham struggled the most out of all the siblings, with maintaining a clear head through his beast instincts. He bit his tongue against asking Othar why he hadn’t spoken more harshly against the prince, taking instead, his brother’s lead into patience.  
Othar surprised him by sighing, “I know what you are thinking, but it wouldn’t do well to give in to the anger we are both feeling towards him. We have to remember that we don’t yet know the full story, and I meant what I said, we are going to give him time to make peace with her. Do you understand what I am telling you Lyth?”  
The younger sibling kept his eyes forward as he answered, “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself brother-mine?”  
Othar grumbled his response, and they quietly made their way towards the noisy halls, letting their keen noses guide them through the twists and turns. They didn’t notice the silent figure slip out behind them and head in the opposite direction, towards the halls of healing.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Ildrith woke slowly, the familiar thrum of pain accompanied her as she sat up and stretched. Her muscles were stiff from all the walking, and she felt a few satisfying pops as her joints stretched out. When she opened her eyes, her lips parted with a soft exclamation.  
“Oh.”  
The elf at the foot of her bed smiled sheepishly.  
They stared at each other for a while, and Ildrith scooted forward to sit up straight, “Legolas?” She asked softly.  
He nodded, “Yes, it is me. Hello Ildrith.”  
“Hi,” she said softly, a smile snuck forth without her consent, and she bit her lip.  
Legolas kept his face impassive, but moved forward to sit at the foot of her bed. “How are you feeling?” He asked.  
Ildrith shrugged, “I’m alright, I mean, I’m alive. Thanks to you.” She added pointedly, peeking up in time to see him grimace.  
“Ildrith…”  
She cringed and shook her head, “No, forget it, let’s not go there. I tend to fall asleep in the middle of important conversations, and I don’t want to frighten you into never coming back.”  
Legolas smiled tightly, and picked at the blanket.  
“I do have to ask though, in complete contradiction of what I just said, just one important question that no-one seems brave enough to answer.” She said quietly, when she peeked up there was a crinkle in between Legolas’s eyes. She ducked her head and asked, “How did you get me back in time?”  
She kept her eyes down, and was surprised when he answered, “I… We were already quite close, I parted ways with Gimli when we met one of my kin in the forest, she escorted Gimli here, and I followed your tracks. You seemed to be heading in this direction anyway, and when I found you, we were a mere hour’s walk from the gates. So when you… passed out, I picked you up and ran as fast as I could, Echanar took you from me, he is a very skilled healer. He has treated many war wounds in his time, and he knows how to… How to deal with severe blood loss.”  
Ildrith squeezed her eyes tight against the shame that threatened to consume her. She cleared her throat, and looked up with a sigh. “I… Hmm, I will keep my promise, thank you for answering.”  
Legolas nodded, his lips a tight line, and Ildrith searched for something to distract him, and keep him here.  
Again he surprised her by speaking first, “In a week’s time it is Mereth Nuin Giliath, the feast under starlight.”  
She smiled, “Oh? What is that exactly?”  
“How much do you know about my kind?” He asked, an impish light seeping into his eyes.  
Ildrith shrugged, a familiar tightness tugged at her shoulder with the motion, distracting her momentarily. “Ah, not much to be honest.”  
“As we have discussed before, you and I are not all that different. Your kind are the guardians of nature, and take your form to fulfil that role. My kind were created as one with this world, and before there was sunlight as we know it, all we could see in the sky were stars. Wood elves, as we are called, love starlight above all, and the Eldar of these people stayed in Middle earth to better watch the stars, even after the rest of us left for Haven.”  
“But you are not a woodelf.” Ildrith interrupted.  
Legolas paused, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “Why do you say that?”  
Ildrith blushed and looked down, “Ah, something Radagast once told me.”  
“Ah, yes, I had forgotten that you know Aiwendil.”  
Ildrith giggled as she tried to pronounce the new word, “A-i-wendil… Is that what you call him?”  
Legolas smiled, “That is his given name, as we know it.”  
“What does it mean?” She asked, certain that the strange word was not just a name.  
“He is ‘bird-friend’, so name by Yavanna, who pleaded with Curumo and the council that he should join the four other Maia chosen to help the free-peoples of Middle earth against Sauron.”  
“Wow,” breathed Ildrith, struggling to take note of all these names and events, “You know everything!”  
Legolas laughed, “Certainly not! It is simply our history.” Ildrith bit her lip, a million questions on her tongue, and Legolas chuckled once more before continuing, “Forgive me, you were about to explain what Radagast told you.”  
Ildrith frowned, trying to retrace the conversation, “Ah, I forgot what I was going to say.”  
“Something Radagast told you about me?”  
Ildrith gasped, “Ah yes! He told me that you, and your father, are not like your people, because your father is from another land. He said you are… Cinder elves.”  
Legolas laughed again, “Sindar, and yes, he is quite correct.”  
Ildrith bit her lip again, and Legolas gestured for her to speak, “Ask whatever is trying so hard to spill from your lips.”  
She grinned like an idiot and asked, “Please, feel free to swat me if this is too personal, but how is it that a family of Sindar elves sit on the throne to rule a kingdom of wood elves.”  
Legolas shrugged, “That is not entirely my story to tell, but it is a good question.”  
Ildrith huffed, but kept her peace. She cleared her throat, “You were telling me about the merel.. ah mereth? Ugh, the Starlight feast!”  
“Mereth Nuin Giliath.” Said Legolas, and Ildrith felt goosbumps raise on her arms.  
“What is that? The language you are speaking?”  
“Sindarin.”  
“It’s beautiful.” She said simply, and Legolas smiled.  
“In one week’s time the Mereth Nuin Giliath will begin. We shall venture out into the surrounding forest to sing and dance and feast beneath the stars. The celebration usually lasts another week or so, depending on how long the wine lasts.” He grinned at some distant memory, and Ildrith could only stare. “Preparations have already begun, and if I am correct, the elves from East Lórien will be joining us this year.” He glanced down at her and smirked, “It is no coincidence that your brothers have lingered here as long as they have.”  
Ildrith frowned, “What does that mean?”  
His smirk deepened and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”  
Ildrith’s lips pressed together in a fine line, but her playful ire was broken by a yawn. Legolas stood abruptly.  
“Forgive me, I am keeping you from your sleep.”  
Ildrith sighed, “All I do is sleep!”  
“Still, I should leave you, you will need your strength if you are to join us at the feast.”  
Ildrith grinned menacingly, “Oh yes, I am definitely going to be ready, there is no way I’m missing that!”  
Legolas smiled, “Rest then, and I will take my leave.”  
“You’re different.” Ildrith softly said, Legolas paused and looked back.  
“Sorry?”  
Ildrith blushed, “Ah, I said, you are different here. You’ve changed. More… I dunno, you just seem different.” Legolas raised an eyebrow and Ildrith laughed and smacked her forehead, “I’m sorry I babble when I’m tired! Ignore me please.”  
Legolas’s eyes twinkled and he made a small bow before turning to depart.  
“Wait!” Legolas paused, “Ah, thank you, for coming to visit me.”  
“Only a pleasure.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, “Will you… Will you come back again?”  
He waited for a breath, “If that is what you wish.”  
Ildrith nodded, “Of course! I mean, only if you want to.”  
“I shall bring Gimli next time, I know he will be happy to see you.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Sleep well Ildrith.” He said with a parting smile.  
Ildrith took a deep breath, “Bye.”  
When he was gone she slumped back against the pillows, unable to stop the smile that stole her lips away, even as she drifted off to sleep once more.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Lytham picked at his food, a scowl trying very hard to settle in despite his cheery surroundings.  
“I don’t see why we have to hide here, just because that prince decided to heed your warning.”  
Othar sighed, he was quite enjoying his meal for a change. Ildrith on the mend, one successful royal intimidation attempt, and an endless supply of mead… What more could a man want?  
“I think I’ve said enough on this matter Lytham. Now stop being such a brat and eat your vegetables.”  
Lytham balled his fists, he glared at his brother and felt a healthy dose of spittle build up behind his lips. Just before he could unleash his fury, Othar looked up, and his eyes narrowed.  
Lytham turned round, and jumped to his feet. The elf, the princeling, had just strolled into the dining room. He spared one moment to glare at Legolas, and then made off for the halls of healing.  
Othar sighed, and looked at his half empty mug sadly. He had one last sip, and then looked up to see the prince making his way to his table. He put his cup down and raised an eyebrow.  
Legolas paused, keeping the table between them, and cleared his throat.  
Othar looked up expectantly, and Legolas said, “Please, Othar, I wish to ask your forgiveness. You are an honoured guest, and it was wrong of me to keep myself from your company.”  
Othar frowned, “Is that all you were wrong about lad?” He gave Legolas one breath’s width to grope for a diplomatic answer, before he stood abruptly. “How is she doing?”  
“She looks well, I have no doubt that she will be well enough to attend your ceremony next week.”  
Othar’s frown deepened, “Now, you wouldn’t be foolish enough to lay all that on her at a time like this, would you?”  
Legolas smiled tightly, “Of course not, that is your news to share after all.”  
Othar nodded, and took a deep breath. “Have a pleasant evening my prince.” He bowed briefly, and left before Legolas could reply.  
Ildrith was awake when he came to the halls, and Lytham was missing. She was sitting in her usual half propped position, reading a book.  
“Now where did you find a book?” He said when she didn’t notice his entry.  
She smiled, and took a moment to place a bookmark before looking up. “It occurred to me that I know very little about our hosts, and their customs. So I pestered Echanar until he found me a book written in the common tongue.” Othar sat on the edge of her bed and held out his hand. She smiled and held out the book. “Don’t lose my place!”  
Othar studied the cover briefly, and then handed it back to her, “Who is Húrin?” He asked gently.  
“That’s what I’m hoping to find out.” Ildrith shrugged, and flinched.  
“What is it?” Othar asked, concern furrowing his brows.  
Ildrith massaged her shoulder and shook her head, “It’s nothing, an old injury.”  
Othar raised his eyebrows, “You don’t have any ‘old injuries’ dear sister.”  
Ildrith picked at the covers, “Older.”  
Othar sighed in exasperation and looked around the room, hoping to find an elf or two. He frowned, “Where is Lytham?”  
“Hmm? Oh, he was just here, he went to find Echanar I think.”  
Othar nodded, and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at the ceiling briefly, and decided to risk the wrath of the healer. “How are you feeling sis, really?”  
Ildrith blanched, “I’m fine, better every day.”  
“Good, but Ildrith…”  
“Don’t,” she whispered.  
“Why not?”  
“Because I can’t talk about it yet, that’s why.”  
“I don’t want to upset you, but Ildrith, you have to realise, it’s painful for us not knowing.”  
“Why? I’m here aren’t I? I’m alive, and we are together, why does anything else matter?”  
Othar closed his eyes, and ran a hand across his tired brow. Ildrith saw for the first time, just how haggard her brother was looking, and felt a stab of guilt.  
He opened his eyes and sighed before answering, “It matters because something hurt you, and we are your brothers, we were supposed to protect you. It matters, because if there is still darkness in the woods then… Well, then the war is not truly over, is it?”  
Ildrith looked at her hands, and scrunched up her eyes. She didn’t notice Echanar and Lytham quietly slip into the room, until she had already committed to talking.  
“Fine, but Othar, if I tell you my tale, then you have to tell me yours.” She looked up, and met the new-comers eyes briefly.  
Lytham moved to sit by her side. Echanar glared at Othar, but kept his silence and pulled up a chair.  
Ildrith cleared her throat and began.  
“It was about a month before the start of autumn that the first attacks happened. Don’t give me that look, this is not a happy story, by any account. I was in the village, and I heard stories about the townsfolk being pestered by orcs in the outer farmlands. This was about a week after I heard the news about your victory against Dol Goldur. No, I don’t care what its real name is. No more interruptions!  
“I was a coward at first, I took your advice, and told the wounded that they were welcome to visit our farm for healing. I hid myself away, and I felt so much shame. When they came to our farm it was the middle of the night, I thought they were wounded, or maybe a messenger, and I was relieved! Thinking my cowardice went unnoticed. The horses were making such a racket! I went out, and… It was horrible, there were so many, I’ve never seen an orc before, but I knew what they were, wargs too. There was so much fire, the beehives… Ah, anyway, I don’t know what came over me. Or I suppose I do, the magic just sort of burst forth. I scared them away without actually touching them, I think they thought the place was empty, and I’m sure they had heard tales of what we are, enough to frighten them away.  
“The next day, I did what I could for the animals that were left. I set them free, and left our house open for the ones that wanted refuge. But I was possessed by some spirit of vengeance, so I packed my camping gear, and my medicine bag, and headed into the woods. Yes, I tracked them, just a small group that had split from the rest I think. I tracked them for a whole day and a night. When I was certain I was close enough I laid out a poultice or two, in case I was injured. I know, so much forethought for such a thoughtless possession of rage.  
“I found them by the riverbed, the first one was quick. I surprised him. I think I broke his neck. That left three. One came at me from the side and I swatted him with my paw. He fell into the water and I turned on his friend, I can still feel his ribs crunching beneath my paws… It keeps me awake sometimes, thinking about it.” Her face went strangely blank for a moment, and then she continued, “The last one surprised me, but I reflexed and bit him around the middle. My teeth stuck in his armour, and it hurt my jaw, I couldn’t talk for a few days after that! He was dead when the friend, the one I pushed in the water, returned for me. I was twisted to the side, so my forelimb was extended, like this. He swung at me from far, and the middle of the blade hit above my elbow, but the blade slid, with his full weight behind it, and the tip jumped off the edge of my limb and pierced my hide. I don’t remember killing him. But they were all dead, and I limped back towards the camp I had made. I passed out before I could make it back.  
“When I woke up, I was swaddled and warm, bandaged as good as can be, and being cared for by none other than Legolas, and the dwarf, Gimli. They helped me recover, and convinced me to join them on the trip back here. I was starting to worry about where you were.” She looked at each of her brothers in turn, and tears welled in her eyes. She wiped them away stubbornly, and continued. “So I agreed to come with them, and we set off. Legolas kept us safe, for the most part, but there were times when the darkness took us all. It twisted our minds, showed us… Our worst nightmares, and… I was starting to feel other things. The magic, the bloodlust and battle rage. It never truly left, and the darkness made me change, and I left them. I don’t remember much after that. Legolas found me, when I had just changed back, near this place, where the elves magic protected me from the darkness. But I wasn’t myself, and… well you probably know the rest better than me.”  
She picked at the blanket, and let the silence wash over her. She was too afraid to look up, afraid of what she would see in their eyes, afraid that she would break down again.  
Othar started talking in a low, rumbling monotone. His bed-time story voice, and she closed her eyes to better see the pictures he painted for her.  
“Grimbeorn the fearless, as I am now known. I lead them into the battle. Men and beasts were under my charge, we arrived in time to see the preparations by the mountain. Saruman sent emissaries, he wanted us to reveal information about the Shire.  
“They came from the East attacked us in hordes, wave after wave. But my dear sister, we beat them back with everything we had. Men fought against men, and… I shall spare you all the details of that bloody mess, but we conquered the Easterlings that had came to burn Dale, and set the Lonely Mountain ablaze. It was a challenge to train our people to recognise the smell of men among men. Those twisted by darkness were just as soft as the soldiers who died beside us from Dale. In any case, the dwarves joined us then, King Dáin Ironfoot from the Iron Hills, and oh, was our victory was sweet!  
“King Brand received word from the forest shortly after, and those of us who could fight moved in on the forest to aid Thranduil in his charge of the monsters that poured from Dol Guldur. As you can see, I was among the fallen that were carried from battle to be healed in this very room. Our brother paced the same halls then as he does now for you, but we both survived, and we will both be better for it.”  
Othar sighed, and took note of Ildrith’s pallid complexion as she struggled to listen. “The world is still correcting itself dear sister. The darkness you encountered in the forest is just a remnant from before. The wizard, Saruman still roams in this land, and where he walks corruption blooms. Fear not sister-mine, he too will be vanquished, and you will know peace once more.”  
Ildrith sniffled, and opened her eyes, “Do you really think so? That it was he who touched our minds in the forest before?”  
Othar rubbed his hair and shrugged, “I think that the forest has known many long years of darkness, and the small kindness it has been shown so far is not yet enough to make it forget what it has been taught to believe is normal.”  
“So it was the trees?”  
“I really cannot be sure… But what I do know, is that you are safe now, and here is the place where you can let go of the things that haunt you still. I’m not telling you to forget about it, I don’t understand what drove you to… such extremes, but I know that what happened was important, and not something that you can just bury. As for your magic… It is not your undoing, we can teach you to control it, and the rest will fall into place. Talk to us about it, or leave it be, but don’t let it gnaw at you anymore.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, and thought carefully for a long time. “What if I don’t want the magic, can you teach me to make it go away?”  
“If that is what you want… Then I can teach you to ignore it.”  
She sighed, and fell back in relief. “Good, I know it’s the easy way out… But I know now that I’m not strong enough, not good enough, to be allowed such power. It is just better if things go back to the way they were.”  
Othar smiled tightly, silently praying that Lytham remained as still and silent as he had been. The waves of tension and disapproval rolling off his younger brother were enough to boil an egg. Othar reached forward and squeezed Ildrith’s fingers in comfort.  
Ildrith grasped his injured hand, and distracted herself by examining the missing digits. His pinky finger has been cleaved completely off, metacarpal and all, but the ring finger was partially intact up to just below the first knuckle. She marvelled at the passive range of motion in his hand, the elves had done an incredible job fixing him. She momentarily forgot about their heavy discussion, and looked for Echanar.  
“Is this your work?”  
The elf took a moment to respond, his mind elsewhere. “Yes, I believe it is.”  
Ildrith smiled, and released her brother’s hand, “Marvellous! I cannot believe that it was a clean cut, and yet there is minimal scarring! You shall have to teach me your tricks one day.”  
Echanar smiled, “Of course, one day.”  
Ildrith sighed and leant back, feeling oddly elated after the discussion. She almost chuckled, as the phrase ‘weight off of the chest’ passed through her mind. She finally understood the meaning.  
“So, what have you been doing around here then? You can’t have woken up from your coma the same day I was brought in!”  
Othar chuckled, “No, well-”  
Echanar stood abruptly, “Forgive me, but I believe there has been quite enough discussion for one evening. Ildrith you need to eat your broth, and get some sleep.”  
Ildrith sighed and patted the blanket over her stomach. “I suppose…” She bit her lip and peeked to see if Echanar was receptive to favours. “Uhm, Echanar…”  
“Yes?” Answered the elf patiently.  
“I was wondering if… If I am really good, and eat all my broth… Do you think I would be well enough to attend the feast next week?”  
Echanar raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Who told you about the feast?”  
Ildrith bit her lip, “Uh, Legolas, when he came to visit earlier.”  
Echanar spared a weighted glance with her brothers, and then answered carefully. “I am sure you will be well enough to attend at least one of the important days.”  
Ildrith stifled a squeak, and grinned widely. “Thank you!”  
Echanar smiled fondly at her, and then stared pointedly at the cold bowl on her new side table, “Now eat!”


	8. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.  
> Author Note: My apologies to those of you who read as I update, I keep uploading this one and taking it down again. This will be the final time. I hope.

“Should we come back later?”  
Ildrith’s eyes shot open, and she sat up in a guilt fuelled spike of adrenaline. Her book clattered to the floor, and someone swore loudly.  
Burying her face in her hands to hide the flood of heat, she chuckled and then looked around in delight.  
“Gimli!”  
Sure enough, the fire-haired dwarf stood by the foot of her bed.  
“Mornin’ lass!” He said, and came forward to embrace her, as freely as family.  
She squeezed him tight, pleased that he seemed to bear her less animosity than any of her guests thus far.  
“I am so glad you came!” She exclaimed, as he moved to sit on a nearby stool. “And Legolas too!” She smiled fondly in his direction, and was pleased to see his answering smile matched hers in warmth at least.  
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood before they could comment. “May I make you all some tea?”  
Gimli chuckled with delight, “Look at that! I would love a cup lass, if only to see you wobble to and from the pot.”  
Ildrith giggled, and crossed the room to where Echanar had so meanly placed the tea making utensils. The water was still quite hot, and she was able to quickly brew 3 steaming cups just the way he had taught her. The smell of ¬¬¬¬Camellia sinensis filled the air, and Ildrith gently blew across the surface to ensure there were no stray leaves floating about to ruin the experience. She loaded the mugs onto a small round board and started to make her way back to the bed.  
“A cunning scheme of Echanar’s.” She explained when they offered their aid. “I asked him to help me regain my strength, and this was his solution. To give me an excuse to walk around safely, without having to exit the room and risk getting lost in what my brother swears is a maze.” Gimli looked quizzical, and Ildrith set the board down on the bed, and carefully climbed up next to the tea before she elaborated. “The Halls, my brother Lytham keeps getting lost apparently.”  
“Ah, yes I fear I would be the same if I ha’ no escort.” Grumbled Gimli, accepting the mug as Ildrith passed it to him.  
Legolas hid a smirk behind his mug as he pretended to inhale the scent.  
“Did I get it right?” Asked Ildrith, a touch of concern in her tone.  
“Quite.” Answered the elf as he took a sip.  
Gimli too took a sip, and cringed. Ildrith noticed, and immediately started to fuss, but he held up his hand. “Peace, lass, I simply prefer mine with milk and honey.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, “Ah, I don’t think I have any honey left… And I can’t honestly recall seeing milk here before.”  
Gimli chuckled, “Wha’ exactly is it with yer people and honey?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, I ha’ noticed when you travelled with us, the mere scent of the stuff drove ye ter near madness.”  
Ildrith laughed, and blushed. “I honestly don’t know, doesn’t everyone?”  
Gimli laughed, “What, go mad at the smell of bee-juice? No’ really!”  
“Oh dear! How embarrassing!” She hid her face in her hands, and ended up spilling her tea across her lap. “Ah, son of a goblin!” She pulled her hospital gown away from her skin and held her own cup away. “That was silly of me, sorry.”  
Gimli simply roared with laughter, even Legolas laughed along, as he retrieved a cloth for her to wipe up her mess.  
“Thanks,” she said as she took the cloth and set her mug down on the wooden board. “Please excuse my terrible manners, how have you been Gimli? What have you been up to?”  
Gimli took a sip of his tea, cringed, and put it on the board half drunk. “Well, everyone is quite preoccupied with this damnation of a feast.”  
Legolas made a small noise, and the other two stared at him curiously. “I need not remind you what we spoke about master dwarf?”  
Gimli’s eyes bulged in his head, “I’m not a simpleton lad! Of course I was’ne gonna… Elves and their ‘propriety’” He said with such sass that Ildrith had to laugh. His eyes seemed to brighten as he remembered the contents of his pockets. He took out his pipe and began stuffing it while mumbling to himself.  
Ildrith watched him, a bubble of laughter on the tip of her tongue, she glanced at Legolas who met her eye and shrugged, the hint of a smile tugging on his lips too. Finally, Gimli Produced a flame from somewhere on his person, and puffed a few times in her direction.  
Ildrith coughed dramatically, “Ugh, Gimli, this is a hospital!”  
“My apologies… Now, where was I?” He took a puff and blew it over his shoulder, “Ah yes, I was gonna say, with all this humbug about a party, I have been busy trying to contact my kin down in Dale.”  
“Oh,” Said Ildrith curiously, “Will they join us for the feast?”  
“No, I was plannin’ to join them very specifically so as ter miss this damnation of a feast!”  
“No! Why? You have to come Gimli! Who will I talk to if you’re not here?”  
Gimli grumbled and puffed, then cleared his throat and waved his pipe around, “Oh you’ll have plenty ter occupy yer lass, don’ worry about tha’!” Legolas made another small noise, and Gimli grumbled, “You are givin’ more away with your comlainin’ than I could ever let slip elf!”  
Ildrith pursed her lips and tapped a finger against them thoughtfully. “You are not going to explain any of that are you?”  
Legolas shook his head, “No, your brothers want it to be a surprise.”  
“Well that’s not fair!” she said, exasperated, “You have to explain that at least. What sort of surprise? Will I be well enough to… do whatever it is?”  
Gimli chuckled, “There will be no doin’ lass-” Legolas swiftly kicked the dwarf on the shin, and he cried out, “Arrgh lad what are ye’? Silly beast! Fine, Lass please change the topic of conversation lest the elf takes it on himself to mutilate me further.”  
She sighed, “Fine, you were going to tell me about your kin. Leave out the feast.”  
“Well, now that the majority of the goblins are gone, I was wantin’ ter take a company of my kin and see ter the mines.” Gimli scratched his chin thoughtfully.  
“Which mines?” Asked Ildrith politely, she knew none of them in any case.  
“Khazad-dûm, though you may kno’ it as Moria.” He said and she gasped.  
“I’ve heard of that place!”  
“Ye have?” He asked idly and she nodded grimly.  
“Once, a traveller passing through spoke of the great Dwarven city that is no more…” She saw his face and cringed, “Sorry. But ah, I didn’t know it was a mine! What mineral is there?”  
“Mithril, it is the largest deposit in all Middle Earth, and the rich seams provided much wealth to the surrounding lands.”  
“What is Mithril?”  
Gimli used his free hand to gesture in the air, “It is a silver-coloured substance, harder than dragon scales! We shape it into armour mostly.”  
“Oh, it sounds lovely, can I see some?”  
He chuckled, “I don’ have any on me right now!”  
She shook her head, “Of course not! Sorry. So when will you leave?”  
“Well, tha’s the thing. I am having some trouble convincing my folk to join me. Recently it has occurred ter me that it might be best to start on simpler tasks.”  
“Oh, such as?”  
“Well, in our travels, I mentioned the Glittering caves in Rohan? Tha’ might be a good place ter start. The king has granted us certain rights, if we agree ter help him rebuild a few things, so maybe tha’s the way ter start.”  
Ildrith nodded, “I’m sure it will be a wonderful journey. However, I fear you might be met with limited success escaping the feast if you are chopping and changing plans already.”  
Legolas smirked, and Ildrith winked to him. Gimli grumbled, and settled back to puff on his pipe.  
Legolas gestured suddenly to the book which had been rescued from the floor and placed on her side table. “What are you reading?”  
Ildrith blushed, and ducked her head. “Ah, it’s a book Echanar got for me, one of the only ones that he could find written in a tongue I can understand.”  
Legolas frowned and picked up the book for closer inspection. He raised his eyebrows and put it back, “I may be mistaken, but I’m sure the library has a whole section in the common tongue.”  
Ildrith’s blush deepened and she hid behind her cup. “Yes, well… It was the only one he could find in the section I wanted.”  
“Ah, I am sensing this has something to do with our conversation yesterday.”  
Ildrith huffed, “Fine, yes, you… peeked my interest. I’m sorry.”  
Legolas chuckled, “Why are you sorry?”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes, “I don’t know! Isn’t it weird, or, nosey or something?”  
“What’s going on in your mind, dear one?” Asked Legolas gently.  
Ildrith peeked up, surprised to see Legolas sitting at the foot of the bed. “Uhm,” she blushed again, and ducked her head, clutching at the threads of conversation that scuttled away as she contemplated the proximity of the elf. “I guess I was embarrassed, I want to know more about you. Ah, I mean your people, especially with the feast coming up. No-one has ever really explained the world to me. Apart from my training as a healer, I haven’t been educated very well, and I haven’t really ever left my house, let alone the mountains.”  
“Ildrith, you should have asked. There is no shame to be had in expanding your knowledge.”  
Ildrith ducked her head, “Yes, well, it was hard enough to get my brothers to let me train in healing. Especially Lytham… He wouldn’t be too happy to indulge my expanding elven knowledge.” She sighed and shrugged, “I guess I’m just used to being told no.”  
Gimli frowned, he cleared his throat and said “That doesn’t seem very fair, you are old enough ter make yer own decisions.”  
It was Ildrith’s turn to frown, and something about the set of her jaw made Gimli inhale sharply. Legolas looked to his friend, not sure if it was proper to satiate his curiosity in this regard. Gimli saved him the trouble.  
“Lass, how old are you?”  
Ildrith frowned and picked at the blanket, “Nineteen.”  
Legolas’s mouth popped open in surprise, his expression so completely taken aback that Ildrith glanced up and broke her own tension by laughing. Legolas stood up, and took a step back. Gimli looked just as aghast, and he dropped his smouldering pipe into his lap.  
“Nineteen?! Lass, you... We… Your brothers!” His mouth gaped like a fish for some time and Ildrith grit her teeth.  
“It’s not a big deal.” Ildrith felt a spike of adrenaline clench her stomach tight, this was exactly the sort of reaction she wanted to avoid.  
Legolas gasped, “Yes it is, you are a child!”  
Ildrith’s anxiety quickly turned to anger, a muscle in her jaw jumped and she seethed. “I am not a child.”  
Gimli reclaimed his pipe and poked the leaves a few times, deep in thought. Legolas ran his hands over his hair in an uncharacteristic fidgeting gesture before saying with a touch of anger.  
“You lied to us.” He stated.  
“I did nothing of the sort!”  
Legolas rubbed his chin, and started to walk back and forth at the foot of her bed. “You told us, back in the forest, that you were old enough to drink.”  
“That is not a lie.”  
Legolas stared at her, his agitation growing. “Yes it is, I know that your people do not permit alcoholic consumption until at least-”  
Ildrith interrupted, her voice loud enough to snap Legolas’s mouth shut audibly. “I also told you, I. Am. Not. Human!” Legolas paused briefly, to consider her tantrum. Ildrith took a deep breath to calm herself, “You seem to know as little of my culture as I do of yours. The consumption of alcohol is not limited by how many seasons we have seen.”  
“That may be so, but the implications your lie arose…” Legolas continued his pacing, and muttered quietly. “No wonder your brothers are so furious.”  
Ildrith blanched, “What did you say?”  
Legolas sighed, “Forgive me, it is not my place to utter such things. Nor is it appropriate… Ildrith you should have told us.”  
She huffed in frustration and threw her hands in the air. “Why though?!” She ran her hands through her hair and rubbed her face wearily. She lowered her voice and looked first to Gimli, her eyes lingering on Legolas. “Why does it matter?”  
The elf stopped pacing and turned to her, “Because…” His eyes darted lightning fast to Gimli, and whatever he saw there caused his shoulders to droop in defeat. “No, you are right. It doesn’t matter, not anymore.”  
Ildrith frowned, a strange feeling of loss and anger settling in her heart. “What does that mean?”  
Legolas appraised her softly, his eyes taking in her wild black hair, ill-fitting night dress, and pallid skin, all reminders of her youth now, rather than her strength. Her fierce, honey-coloured eyes flashed dangerously as he remained silent and impassive, and he smiled ruefully.  
“It means that you are ill, and we have upset you.”  
Ildrith’s face twisted with rage, and then hopped off the bed, upending the wooden tray as she did so. Legolas flinched at the crash and clatter as their tea party fell to the floor. Ildrith turned her back on her friends and marched towards the doors that lead to the rest of the Halls. She ignored the startled cries of Gimli as she flung the doors open and headed out into the dimly lit hallway. She could hear them following her, so she growled and turned left, her anger fuelling her hurried steps as she twisted and turned, guided by the increasingly distant sounds of pursuit.  
When her breathing started to interfere with her angry thoughts, she paused and leant into a shadowed alcove in the passage wall. She realised as she stopped, what a fool she was being, as dizziness crept up on her and she slowly crouched to regain her breath.  
Of course she was found, and by none other than Legolas himself. She looked up, saw that he was alone, and buried her face in her knees once more.  
“What do you want, elf?”  
Legolas squatted next to her, and smiled at her feisty attitude, even as her voice wobbled unsteadily.  
“I want to help you, I want to return you to your bed so you can continue to heal. Most of all, I want you to stop running away from me.”  
Ildrith smiled briefly, and then opened herself up to sit cross-legged and glare at the elf. “Stop giving me reasons to then.”  
Legolas’s mouth twitched, but his impassive mask remained intact. “Come back with me.”  
Ildrith looked away stubbornly. It was easier than admitting to herself, or the elf for that matter, that she felt too tired just then to stand, let alone traipse all the way back to the healing rooms.  
“Go away prince, surely you have better things to do than look after a child like me.”  
“Ildrith…” He started, but she held up a hand.  
“No, I get it, age is important to you. I am too young to be your friend. I am too young to go with my brothers to war. I am too young to learn magic. It’s not the first time I’ve heard this sort of speech, and yes I am aware that running away and throwing tea cups around only serves as proof of my infancy.”  
Legolas sighed, “I have never looked at you like a child Ildrith, but you might have given us some warning. Try to see it from our perspective. Among both our cultures, yes I am sure among your people too, it is highly unorthodox for a young girl to be dragged around the forest by two grown men, warriors at that. Your brothers have been ready to kill me since we arrived, and now I know why. Imagine how this must look to them?”  
Ildrith grimaced, “They are overly protective of me…”  
“I have noticed.”  
“I’m sorry.” She said, scrunching up her nose. “I never meant to cause all this trouble. It was just… It was nice to be around you guys without you looking down on me. You and Gimli treated me like an equal, I don’t think you realise what a gift it was. I just didn’t want to ruin that.”  
“You wouldn’t have.” Ildrith scoffed, and he smiled, “Alright, perhaps we might have exercised more caution.”  
“Yes, and I would have been swaddled and strapped to your back like a baby lamb until we got here.”  
“That might not have been the worst idea, all things considered.”  
She looked up, taken aback, and then giggled and swatted at him when he smirked. He ducked away easily, and grabbed her wrist as she made a second attempt. She gasped, and tried to pull it back, but he held firm and she fell forward. He caught her, and held her up until she regained some semblance of stability.  
She pushed away from him, renewing her attacked, and managed to knock him off balance. He fell onto his butt with a surprised huff, Ildrith laughed aloud and pounced onto him, knocking him prone. They tussled for a time, rolling out of the shadowed alcove into the main hallway in their struggles. Ildrith laughed freely, but her joy quickly turned to horror as someone wrenched her upright from behind with a ferocious growl.  
“What are you doing?” She yelped as that same someone plonked her right side up and let her go.  
Before she could register what was happening, the beast of a man had pushed her away and lifted Legolas off the ground like a doll and thrown him against the wall. Ildrith gasped, recognising the burly form of her eldest brother.  
“Othar!” She hurried forward, having to leap into the air to smack him on the shoulder as he held Legolas by the throat two feet off the ground. “Othar stop this, put him down at once!”  
She was ignored entirely, and Ildrith glanced fearfully between her brother’s thunderous expression and Legolas’s rapidly reddening face. She yelled at Othar once more, and then resorted to a childish trick she knew would work. She reached under his shirt and pinched as hard as she could at the once squishy flesh on his now tensely muscled side.  
Othar flinched, so she slapped him hard on his arm. He lowered the prince, and turned to grab her by the shoulder with his free hand. Ildrith’s heart rate spiked in fear at the sight of her brother’s normally hazel eyes filled with swirling gold.  
“Othar stop it!” She said breathlessly, hoping he wasn’t too far taken by the magic to listen to reason.  
Othar growled, his beast-voice deeper than hers, and far more menacing than she remembered. Grimbeorn they called him now, and she could suddenly see why.  
“Othar let him go, it isn’t what it looks like!” He growled again, deeper and more threatening than before. Ildrith grit her teeth and dug her nails into Othar’s hand where it grasped her shoulder too tight. She pinched hard enough to draw blood, and when he let go, she ducked quick as a mouse and was suddenly standing before him, or rather, between him and Legolas.  
She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back. It shouldn’t have had any effect, like pushing against a wall, but now that he was looking at her, and not glaring at the elf, he had mellowed somewhat and allowed himself to be moved.  
Ildrith heard a gasp and cough behind her as Othar released Legolas. The Beorning’s eyes hardened at the sound, but Ildrith placed her hands on either side of his head and slapped him softly to keep his attention.  
“Othar, stop it, look at me.”  
He growled at the elf over the top of her head, and then looked down at his sister. Ildrith was relieved to see the gold seeping out of his irises.  
“Ildrith,” he said, his voice overly deep and growly still, “What in all the god’s names do you think you are doing?”  
She shook her head, “Nothing, I swear Othar it was nothing. We were just playing.”  
He frowned, “Playing? What are you five?”  
She snapped her teeth together and dropped her hands, “What are you, twelve? Can’t you control your temper?”  
Othar growled, “He has no right to touch you like that!”  
“Touch me like what? What about the way you touched him? Did you forget he is a prince? Or, more importantly, our host?”  
“Don’t try and turn this around little sister, you will hold your tongue until told otherwise.”  
“Ildrith…” Came a raspy voice from behind her.  
Ildrith blanched, and swung round, keeping her one hand on Othar’s chest in case he tried to get round her. “Legolas no, don’t say anything, its best if you just go.”  
He stared at her in shock and took a step forward. Ildrith flung out her hand and pushed against his chest too. “No Legolas, please, just go. I’ll be fine, just go. Please.” She let desperation bleed into her eyes and voice. Legolas’s eyes left hers to glare at her brother and she pushed at him, “Go Legolas, I’ll talk to you later, please just go.”  
He cast her a final, equally desperate look and then turned on his heel and walked swiftly away.  
Ildrith could feel Othar trembling beneath her fingers, and as soon as Legolas was out of sight she turned to face her brother. She poked him hard on the chest.  
“What is the matter with you?!” She yelled.  
Othar glared down at her, “Don’t take that tone with me. What do you think you are doing with him Ildrith?”  
“I’m not doing anything with him, he is my friend!”  
“Don’t lie to me sis, I know of your feelings for him.”  
“What? I don’t have any-”  
“I don’t care for your confused little teenage angst story, it stops now!”  
Ildrith fumed, “My… How dare you! Othar you have no right-”  
“I have every right!” He yelled, loud enough for Ildrith to flinch and step back. Othar lowered his voice, but kept all of its intensity, “I am your guardian, your oldest living relative, and your King.” He softened his voice even further, as he sobered himself with his own words. “It is my job to look out for you little sis, and you are fooling yourself if you think you can carry on like… that… with him. He is hundreds, if not thousands of years older than you.”  
She ducked her head, trying to calm down as he was. “I know that, and I’m not fooling myself with anything. I just want to be his friend, and until very recently, I am sure that was his wish too.”  
Othar balled his fists, “He is lucky he has a head to put wishes in.”  
“Stop it!” Ildrith said with a warning growl, though her temper was curbed some.  
“You are too young to understand, but he should have known better. Next time, and there better not be a next time, I’ll rip his pretty head off. Understood?”  
Ildrith fumed, but nodded tersely at the very real threat in her brother’s eyes.  
“Good, now let us put it behind us and get something to eat.” Ildrith frowned, her brows crossed in confusion. Othar chuckled. “What? Clearly you are well enough to be wandering about the halls, even if you are only half dressed.” Ildrith glanced down, and suddenly realised her loose fitting hospital gown was crumpled enough to expose a fair amount of thigh, and most of her shoulders. She fixed herself with a blush and Othar continued, “I think it’s time we stopped letting Lytham and Echanar baby you, and got you a proper meal.”  
Ildrith nodded, and followed obediently behind her brother, too mollified to make him stop and let her change. She did what she could for her appearance as they made their way to the great hall. Her head was spinning as she tried to keep up with Othar’s apparent mood swing. It wasn’t so unusual, her family had always been quick to anger, and even quicker to forgive. She had simply never been on the receiving end before.  
She was too busy smoothing down her hair and fixing her dress to look up and around properly. Before long Othar cautioned her to stand beside him, and she fell into place with a sigh.  
Only then did she glance up, and gasp in wonder. The cavern opened up above her to dizzying heights, and the walls seemed to stretch on forever in every direction. The cavern was well lit, and had a warm, homely feel despite its size. Tapestries depicting great battles, celebrations in the merry woods, and hunts of all kinds were draped tastefully about the room. There were dozens of tables of varying sizes, and more than one fire blazing, some with a scattering of elves about them. Ildrith took it all in, and felt her heart lighten. She inhaled deeply, her mouth watered at the smell of fresh bread and fruit somewhere before her.  
“Come,” said her brother and Ildrith hurried to keep pace. She stumbled often as her eyes wandered up and all around. She noticed across the room, steps leading to an ornate throne set apart from the rest of the hall. It was empty, much to her disappointment, and made her think of Legolas and his father. Her stomach twisted uneasily, and she hurried to catch up to Othar.  
“Ildrith!” Someone called out suddenly, and she turned to see Lytham racing across the room. He stopped before her and placed a protective arm across her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”  
Othar turned and Lytham inhaled sharply when he took in the heavy set of his brows. “Othar! What happened?”  
Ildrith sighed, and ducked out from her brother’s grasp. “I’m quite finished with this topic, where is the food?”  
Lytham pointed absently to a grand buffet table in the centre of the room, and Ildrith stalked off to load a plate with bread and butter. She made her way down, picking at the unfamiliar fruits and jams, until she stopped in delight and filled a nearby ale mug with honey. When she turned round, she saw Lytham hang his head and shake it slowly. Othar simply looked menacing.  
She felt a wave of fatigue settle over her, and decided that she was done with the day’s drama. A brief peek around revealed to her guards scattered about the room, whom she had previously missed. She approached one, who gladly agreed to escort her back to the halls of healing where she tucked into her lunch, quite unaware that the mess she made had been cleaned up.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Later that day, when Ildrith was reading and feeling quite proud of herself for staying awake so long, Lytham poked his head sheepishly around the door.  
“May I come in?” He asked. Ildrith rolled her eyes and beckoned him inside. He sat tentatively by the foot of her bed and cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure you would want to see me.”  
She laughed without humour, “You I have no problem with. You did not embarrass me in front of our hosts earlier today.”  
Lytham frowned, his feelings on the matter clear though he wisely held his tongue. “Yes, well… I thought I might offer a truce on behalf of our dear brother.”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes. “What does he want?”  
“He wants nothing, only for you to be happy.”  
“Could have fooled me…”  
“No, not like that. He wants you to know that there is a room prepared for you. We have all been given our own chambers here, you too. Seeing as you are feeling well enough to walk around, maybe you would want to move into your own room now?”  
Ildrith considered his words, “I have a room?”  
He nodded with a smile, “Quite a nice one actually.”  
“Will Echanar mind?”  
Lytham stood and began to pace, much where her elven friend had paced only hours earlier. “Don’t get mad, but I asked him already. He is also not very happy with Othar.”  
Ildrith frowned, “How does he know?”  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be so surprised, these people gossip more than a pack of hens.”  
Ildrith blushed, and wondered to herself just how much the grapevine had overheard. She shook the thoughts away, “Fine, but what did he say?”  
“He said you can go, but you have to come back here and see him once a day at least until the feast.” Ildrith smiled, “He warned me also, on pain of death to ensure that you don’t over exert yourself.”  
“Now that is a promise I can keep!” She smiled, the idea of her own space cheered her deeply.  
Lytham smiled warmly, and held out his hand. “Would you like to go there now?”  
“Oh! Yes please!” She snapped her book shut and took Lytham’s hand in her free one. “Perhaps after you have shown me the way I can go find some clothes.”  
Lytham chuckled, “If your room is anything like mine, there will be a whole new wardrobe waiting for you.”  
That was the first time Ildrith noticed Lytham’s strange garb. She raised an eyebrow and looked forward.  
“What?” He asked with a glance down.  
“Nothing,” She said innocently, “It’s just… I thought you of all would be the last to adopt their way of things.”  
He chuckled, “Yes, I have been rather a brat about it all haven’t I?” He smoothed the elvish tunic subconsciously and stared ahead. “I recently decided to lower my standards that’s all.”  
Ildrith snorted, “What changed?”  
He smirked and kept his eyes forward, Ildrith’s mouth popped open in surprise, but she closed it again. Something strange had happened, and she felt it wise to remain silent for the time being.  
She was shocked, given his reputation, that Lytham deposited her before the correct set of doors before long. She turned to him uncertainly.  
“Are you sure this is mine?”  
He laughed, “Oh what little faith you have sister-mine!” She raised her eyebrows at him and he sobered, “Here, if you don’t believe me…” He turned and opened the great doors opposite hers in the breezy hallway, “This is my room.”  
She peeked over, her eyes wide, it was as big as hers! But definitely belonged to one of her brothers, the mess alone told her that.  
“Where is Othar’s?”  
He gestured to his left, where a door lay about twenty meters away. Ildrith nodded, and then turned back to the doors before her.  
Lytham called out softly, “I’ll be in here if you need me.” And disappeared from sight and mind.  
She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open, they swung inward silently to reveal an enormous lounge-come-bedroom decorated in lush greens and cream. The furniture was delicate, but sturdy. She guessed the dark wood of the chairs and tables must be some sort of refined oak. The floor was bare stone beneath her feet, and she marvelled at its smooth polished surface as she made her way in.  
She touched the soft furniture and brushed her fingers against a plain tapestry. Light flickered under her fingers, and she gasped. It was a curtain! She drew it back and shielded her eyes against the pale winter sunlight that flooded into the room. As her eyes adjusted, she heard a waterfall, and then when her sight returned in full, she looked out and saw the forest spread beneath her and all around for miles. She looked down and found the source of the noise. Water poured out angrily from beneath her feet, she peered out, as far as the glassless window would let her, but could trace it no further than to say it came from beneath her room. She turned around, and dropped to press an ear against the floor. Very faintly she could hear the sound of rushing water. She stood again and sighed happily.  
The curtains she knotted on themselves so the early afternoon light flooded the room, a sectioned off area revealed her own wash room and, as Lytham promised, a wardrobe full of rich velvet dresses, and thin cotton ones awaited. She was pleased to see her own sparse clothes there too. She pushed them aside, and found her leather boots hiding at the back of the cupboard.  
She gathered her things, too scared to try any of the unfamiliar clothes just yet, and made her way to the wash room. There was a deep pool carved into the stone floor, a large cork stopper in each side. She frowned at it, an idea forming as to its purpose. She tugged at one of the corks, and gasped as a stream of ice cold river water burst from the hole into the tub. The levels rose rapidly, but try as she may she couldn’t fight the stream to replace the cork. When the water threatened to spill over into the room, she leant over and unstopped the other side, praying her hunch was correct.  
The hole opened onto a space, through which the water started draining. Ildrith sighed in relief and watched the water establish a sort of equilibrium with itself. She then stripped to nothing, and tossed the hospital gown into a corner. The water was freezing, but Ildrith lowered herself in with a grateful sigh anyway, the temperature didn’t bother her. She was used to bathing in the icy run off water from the mountains after all.  
The elves had provided her with a sort of soap, which she used to scrub herself from head to toe several times over before hopping out and reattempting to secure the stoppers in the tub. She met with some success, and watched the water drain safely away as she dried herself with one of the giant, soft wash cloths lying next to the tub.  
Once in her own clothes, Ildrith began to feel normal. She even found her own bag and padded around the room brushing her hair while touching this and that, scarcely able to believe it was all for her.  
When she was dry, and clothed, she donned her leather boots, and made her way to the door. Echanar, and her brother wanted her to take it easy, but she was feeling rejuvenated, and she had a mission.  
Lytham’s room was open, but Ildrith tiptoed past, she heard voices coming from within. She didn’t pause for longer than to ascertain that it was Lytham, and an unfamiliar female voice. She slunk down the hallway, brushing off her curiosity as she snuck past Othar’s closed doors. She didn’t relax until she was a few turns away from the guest wing, as she assumed it was.  
At first she was determined to find it on her own, but eventually she gave in and asked a guard for directions. Mercifully, they all spoke the common tongue, and seemed content to answer her question without raising any of their own. A few minutes later she was deposited before a set of doors very similar to her own, only one floor above.  
She stood outside for a while, summoning the courage to make her presence known. Finally, she squared her shoulders and knocked timidly three times. When no-one answered, she chickened out, as she turned around to flee, one of the great doors opened behind her.  
“Ildrith?” Asked a soft voice that turned her stomach to butterflies.  
She turned back around slowly, and offered Legolas a small smile. He peeked out into the hallway, his keen eyes searching shadows she couldn’t perceive. When they returned to hers they were full of concern, and mischief. He reached out as quick as lightning and snatched her wrist, she gasped as he pulled her towards him, releasing her into his room in a flurry and shutting the door firmly behind him.  
He held a finger to his lips, and pulled her further into his room. His had an atrium that hers did not, and he pulled her round the corner hastily. His room was also grander than hers, tall bookshelves lined the walls and little chairs and poufs littered the room to create a wonderful sitting area no matter what kind of light you preferred. His room, unlike hers, had no bed, she assumed it was in another room off to the side somewhere.  
Like hers however, the curtains were pulled back to let the light in. His windows were taller, they stretched almost to touch the high ceiling and she pulled her fingers from his to walk up to the opening. She leant out, as she had with her own room, and saw below and to the right, the fountain of water streaming from the rock. She smiled and turned back to find Legolas watching her with his usual amount of impassivity.  
She grimaced and whispered, “Sorry.”  
He ran a hand through his hair, which Ildrith now realised was hanging completely loose about his face. She glanced down and noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes either.  
“Did anyone see you?” He asked.  
She shook her head, “Only the guard who brought me here… I think.”  
“What are you doing here?” He asked, his shoulder slumping in relief, Ildrith flinched.  
“I, uh, I’m sorry. I just wanted to apologise, for earlier.” Legolas grimaced, and went to sit on a faded pouf by the window. Ildrith closed her eyes. “My brothers have always been protective of me, not that that… Ugh, it’s not an excuse, it was all my fault anyway.”  
Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose, “No, actually it was mine. After just finishing a conversation with you about what is appropriate, I acted in the most foolish way possible. Your brother had every right to… React the way he did.”  
Ildrith frowned, and moved to sit on the windowsill. “Not really, I mean, he jumped to some alarming conclusions.”  
“Alarming?” Legolas raised an eyebrow.  
“Well, yeah, especially considering how everyone keeps on about my age… In any case, he shouldn’t have attacked you like that. Even if we had been…” She looked down, furious at the blush that burned into her cheeks, “Well, no matter what he thought, he had no right to attack you like that, and I’m really sorry. I can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but if you want to send me away, and… Stop being my friend, I understand completely. My brothers would be happy, that’s for sure.”  
Legolas frowned, and leant back against the wall so Ildrith had to lean forward to see his profile. He was quiet for so long that Ildrith bit her lip and looked out onto the forest.  
“I see, that is what you want.”  
Legolas sighed, and swivelled on the pouf, so his arm rested on the windowsill beside her boot. Ildrith leant back, found the wall behind her, and scooted back so she could brace herself against it.  
“I don’t know what I want.” He said, his eyes dark as he stared out at the forest.  
Ildrith studied him carefully, until he glanced sidelong at her. She bit her lip, afraid of scaring away his open honesty. As he looked at her, she wondered silently, about their age gap. It seemed to her, that the prince was as young and confused as herself. She chased the thought away, Othar was right about him. He was indeed hundreds of years her senior, Echanar had alluded to the fact. He had probably been there through every war and turn of events the land had ever seen. He might look young and vulnerable, but it was surely because his mind dwelt on things she couldn’t even comprehend.  
“Are you my friend?” She whispered, and he turned away once more, leaving her heart to stutter unevenly.  
“I’m not sure…” He hedged, and she bit her lip against the tears that stung her eyes. “I don’t think I can be your friend Ildrith.”  
Ildrith closed her eyes and fought back the disappointment and rejection. “That’s alright,” she whispered, “I understand.” She was glad that he was at least being honest with her, despite the icy veins that tightened in her stomach.  
When she opened her eyes he was straddling the windowsill, facing her. She gasped, and he reached a hand uncertainly to brush back the traitorous tear that had escaped her control. His hand stayed on her cheek, and she held her breath, so afraid of scaring this moment away. He met her eyes uncertainly, his face perfectly blank.  
“I can’t be your friend, because I am afraid of what I might do.”  
“What do you mean?” Ildrith found herself whispering, “You won’t hurt me.”  
A small smile touched his lips, “That’s not what I meant.” Ildrith bit her lip, terrified of saying the wrong thing, and Legolas’s eyes dropped to her lips. She opened her mouth, and forced herself to breath as his hand stroked her cheek and came to rest on her bottom lip.  
He looked up, and met her gaze, his pupils widened briefly, and Ildrith let out a shaky breath. He withdrew his hand, and Ildrith raised her fingers to brush where he had touched, where her skin burned in his absence.  
Ildrith threw caution to the wind, and swung her legs to the side, scooting sideways along the ledge with the motion. She looked up, and found he was much closer than she expected. She reached her left hand up and rested it on his cheek, mirroring his earlier actions. When he didn’t chase her away, she moved trembling fingers down his cheek, and traced his lips as he had done hers. She moved her hand down, and placed her palm against his chest, she stared at her fingers as she considered just how brave she wanted to be.  
“Are you my friend?” She asked again, and when she peeked up, his expression was impossible to read.  
He released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and said, “No,” before crushing his lips to hers.


	9. The Changing of Seasons

Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.  
Warnings: Adult themes, I guess…  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Othar stood on the bridge that lead to the City. A company of elves, including Thranduil and the royal guard, were somewhere behind him. The King was astride his noble Stag, and all the elves present were clad in their impressive woodland armour. Othar almost wished Lytham were with him, if only to make him feel less underdressed.  
Othar rubbed his brows wearily, family was always complicated. The fact that his siblings were acting like children was nothing new, it was simply poor timing.  
He kept his back to the elves and faced the forest before him. A light breeze stirred the air about his head, bringing with it the familiar scent of fallen leaves and mud. He opened himself to the magic just enough to sharpen his senses and the forest burst to life before him.  
He was suddenly able to perceive the dense leaves above, and see that they hid a tiny kingdom of birds. Their frenzied cheeping was music to his ears, too long had he been trapped beneath the mountain at the mercy of the elves. The breeze carried with it the story of the forest, but it didn’t last long enough for Othar to finish its telling. He stretched the remaining fingers of his right hand, and felt the air condense about them. It was going to rain later, the whole forest sang of the coming storm. He smiled to himself, just in time for their arrival...  
The river bubbled beside him, but the steady thrumming was not just coming from the water anymore. He smiled and squared his shoulders, at almost seven and a half feet tall he formed an imposing figure at the head of the welcoming party. The thundering of horses’ hooves could be heard without the aid of his magic now. Shortly after he let the magic drain away completely, the first riders could be seen emerging from the treeline up the road.  
Thranduil rode forward and stood beside the Beorning as the riders leapt from their horses at the edge of the treeline and ran toward Othar. Thranduil cast him a glance, but decided to sit firm and see how it played out before he gave any commands.  
When the five riders reached the edge of the bridge, Othar let out a thunderous roar, more beast than man in its depth and fervour. The five riders halted and all at once leapt in the air and roared back. Othar unfolded his arms and felt his smile spread through his whole body as he leapt forward and embraced the men as one. From their size and general unkempt appearance, it was easy to see that they were Beorn’s people.  
Their abandoned horses, great shaggy beasts, nipped and played amongst each other before trotting slowly forward and sniffing the group of men curiously. Their horses wore no tack, and showed no signs of sweat or fatigue despite being at the end of a very long journey. The men broke apart, and Othar greeted each horse in turn, speaking as one of their own, as was the way of Beorning folk.  
Thranduil nudged his stag forward, and gestured behind him for the elves to move across the bridge. The rest of the Beornings had arrived, trailing a fair distance behind the first riders as they walked beside their own horses who bore packs and other paraphernalia of travel. It was all that was left of the people whom Othar had led into battle, they came here now to celebrate with their king as special guests of the woodland realm.  
Thranduil’s men rushed forward to disperse among the thirty or so Beorning soldiers. There were no Beorning children, those having been sent away to Human villages for safe keeping during the war, or up into the mountains to dwell among those who guarded the roads. Some of the soldiers had brought along their Human wives, and some wives were soldiers too. They were tired, and dishevelled from both the war and the journey, but their smiles were true. Some recognition was to be had among Thranduil’s folk as there were elves present who had formed part of the guard that fought alongside the Beornings against the Easterlings.  
Thranduil had set aside lodgings for them among his own folk, inside the Mountain caverns where they would be safest, but most of the Beornings preferred to stay outside where they could see the stars. There was a small discussion, and Othar managed to convince the folk to follow the elves into the caverns.  
Some of Thranduil’s folk too chose to live under starlight rather than in the caves. The top of the hill under which the kingdom was built was massive, and the forest crept up its Northern edge. There was ample space for the people and their horses, and they quickly set up an encampment among the elves.  
The Beornings’ giant cart horses quickly found the elves’ more lightly bred chargers, and set about making friends. The stags and does that some of the elves chose to ride were a big hit among the soldiers, and many a camp was abandoned half-made so the Beornings could walk among them exchanging stories.  
Othar stood with the king, and watched his people settle in. They had returned to Dale after the war, it made more sense as the Humans who had chosen to fight with them needed escort back to their homeland. The king had insisted Grimbeorn, as was Othar known among the warriors, needed to stay in Mirkwood. Of course, as soon as Othar understood the elves’ message, he has sent for all of his kin.  
Those who guarded the roads through the Misty Mountains sent apologies, but no emissary. It didn’t matter, the majority of his remaining kin had arrived in ample time to join the celebration, and like Ildrith they had no idea of the special meaning this feast now held.  
“So few have come.” Stated Thranduil, as he surveyed the encampment.  
Othar grimaced, and corrected the elvish king. “So few are left.”  
Thranduil placed a hand on the massive man’s shoulder and squeezed sympathetically.  
“Come,” he said turning away. “Let us settle the rest of your kin downstairs. Their quarters are quite near yours.”  
He called over a guard, and Othar heard him hiss angrily, “Toltho ion nín.”  
The guard skittered away, and Othar politely averted his gaze.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Ildrith felt her heart stop, his lips were soft, and warm against hers. One hand cradled her face, and the other slipped to her waist, he pulled her towards him, crushing her body against his. Ildrith gasped, breaking the kiss, and found her hand on his chest. Legolas kissed her? He kissed her!  
Her breathing was hectic, and her head spun. She opened her eyes, his were startlingly blue as they stared back into hers. She scrunched her fingers closed, gripping the fine material of his tunic tight. Her nose brushed his, and she inhaled deeply, his uniquely Legolas scent filled her lungs and she pulled him closer.  
Her lips parted and her eyes closed as she breathed him in. His lips brushed hers, and she felt his warm breath tickle her nose. She couldn’t help herself, she smiled, and opened her eyes. His lips curved up too, a question is his eyes. She shook her head and pressed her lips against his tentatively. When he kissed her back, her fingers released the tunic, and moved up to touch the soft skin at the base of his throat. She felt the air vibrate beneath her fingers as he hummed and pulled away.  
Her lips tingled in his absence, and she glanced up at him curiously. His eyes were full of wonder, but there was an edge to it.  
“What?” She whispered.  
He started to answer, and then froze as a knock sounded on his door. Ildrith’s head whipped round to stare fearfully in that direction, and she jumped lightly off the window.  
“Who is that?” She whispered, and Legolas clamped his hand down over her mouth. He placed a finger over his lips and motioned for her to stay put. Ildrith nodded, and sank to the ground.  
Legolas ran a hand through his hair, and walked to the door. Ildrith heard him open the door, and her heart seized up as she recognised Lytham’s voice. Quiet as a mouse she crept closer and pressed an ear against the wall that hid her from the doorway.  
“…not here.” She heard Legolas say.  
There was a soft sigh, and Lytham replied, “Well, she is not in her room, and she hasn’t been to the infirmary either.”  
“I can fetch a guard to help you look?” said Legolas.  
“No, no. I just hoped she would be here. Othar is going to be mental when he finds out she is missing.” Ildrith closed her eyes and suppressed the urge to groan. Othar. He was going to kill her, and Lytham, and then Legolas. Maybe not in that order.  
“I will send for you if she appears.” Legolas said.  
“Thank you, prince.” He sighed again, “Listen…”  
“There is no need to say more. No hard feelings, I know he was just trying to protect her.”  
Another sigh, this one loaded. “That’s not entirely what I was going to say.” Ildrith held her breath, ready to intervene if her less stable brother tried something foolish. “I think if I had been the one who found you two… Well, I wouldn’t have been so rational as to remain human. You have to understand how it looks to us. You two being friends, being so close and what you’ve been through together… She is so young, and we have no father to protect her, no mother to guide her choices. We are all she’s got, and she is all we have.”  
“I understand Lytham, thank you for sharing your concerns with me. I want to assure you that I would never hurt her, I have grown very fond of her and you have nothing to worry about.”  
Yet another sigh, “Yes, and that is precisely what we are afraid of… Listen Legolas, Ildrith has… grown fond of you too. If you get my meaning,” Ildrith’s mouth popped open in outrage, and she seethed behind the wall. “And like I said, she is so young, she has no experience dealing with the sort of feelings she has for you. I would, I mean, we would appreciate it if you wouldn’t, encourage her, so to speak.” Ildrith balled her hands into fists and glared through the wall, the next time she saw him…  
Legolas chuckled, and Ildrith picked up a hint of nervousness in his tone, “I will take it under advisement Lytham, thank you for your visit. If you’ll please excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be, and I am a tad underdressed.”  
Lytham stammered, “Of course, my lord, excuse me.”  
Ildrith heard the door close, and leapt away from the wall, her heart racing as panic took control. She wrung her hands nervously as she waited for Legolas to return. What was she supposed to say to him? He had kissed her first, so she shouldn’t feel embarrassed, right?  
He rounded the corner and her heart stuttered unevenly. He paused and they stared at each other uncertainly. Eventually Legolas smiled, and Ildrith released her breath in a nervous laugh which allowed him to laugh too. He closed the distance between them and hushed her with a fearful glance over his shoulder. This only made her laugh harder as she struggled to stay quiet and he bit his lip like a naughty teenager. He held a hand over her mouth to try calm her, and she grabbed his hand, gently pulled it away from her lips which curved into a smile as her mirth bubbled away.  
She squeezed his fingers and dropped his hand, unsure where she stood with him now. He saw through her uncertainty and held on to her fingers. He closed one of her hands in both of his and drew her closer. There was so much to say, too much. So he closed his eyes and held her hand to his nose. Ildrith watched him carefully, trying to find a way to voice one of the many questions that plagued her.  
“I can hear you thinking.” He said with a smile, his eyes still closed.  
Ildrith blushed and looked at her feet. “Sorry.”  
He opened his eyes, “Why are you apologising?”  
She rolled her eyes and reclaimed her hand. “I don’t know!” She turned around and paced to the window. “Probably because you have had to deal with two different sets of threats from my brothers today. Because you had to lie for me. Because I am more trouble than I’m worth. Because I don’t understand why…”  
“Why what?” His soft voice came from right behind her, and Ildrith swivelled, clutching her heart.  
He stepped closer, and she stepped back, her foot bumped against the wall, and she felt the breeze of the open window behind her.  
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “I don’t understand why you kissed me.”  
She opened her eyes, he looked so uncertain, so vulnerable. When he spoke his voice shook. “I don’t know either, I didn’t think it through all that much to be honest.”  
She tried her best not to feel insulted, but it happened anyway. He seemed to sense her dejection, and closed the final step between them, his hands gently grasping her shoulders. “I did so because it felt right.”  
She peeked up at him, still unsure what to feel. So she whispered instead, “It felt right to me too.”  
He smiled, and Ildrith blushed. He moved his fingers to brush her cheeks, which only worsened the matter and deepened his smile. She ducked her head, certain she was about to combust. He lifted her chin, and she slowly raised her eyes back to his.  
“May I kiss you again?”  
“You probably shouldn’t.”  
He dipped his head and smiled, “That is true.”  
“You’ll get in trouble.”  
“I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.” He lowered his head even more, tipping her chin further, so his lips hovered over hers.  
Ildrith closed her eyes, humming at the warmth that spread from her belly. When all she could feel was his breath lightly brushing her lips, she opened her eyes. He stared deeply into hers, his free hand startled her as it touched her arm, and brushed a line of Goosebumps down to her hand. She shivered and her breath came out in a single shaky gasp.  
“May I kiss you?” He asked again, and she smiled.  
“Yes, yo-”  
He interrupted the rest of her sentence with his lips. She hummed in surprise, and then melted into his shape as he crushed her body to his. He moved his lips against hers, until they parted with a sigh and she could taste him on her tongue. Some instinct flicked on in her brain, and she stood on her tiptoes. Her tongue traced the shape of his lower lip and a growl started deep in her chest as his lips parted too and the taste of him filled her mouth. She broke away, frightened by the tight ball of need that had clenched in her gut.  
He appeared to be similarly affected, and they watched each other cautiously. Ildrith chuckled nervously, and bit her lip. She hummed again, as his scent filled her sensitive nose. She leaned instinctively closer and pressed her nose into the hollow at the base of his throat. She inhaled deeply, and felt the knot twist in her gut. When she looked up, Legolas’s eyes were dark, filled with some unknown emotion. He clasped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, kissing her with an intensity that burnt.  
His lips parted and when their tongues met, Ildrith felt a vibration run up through her body into her mouth. She groaned into him, and he responded in kind, pushing her back until her knees hit the windowsill and she squeaked. His eyes flashed open briefly and he pulled her into him and then pushed her back again, this time her back hit the rough stone wall and she gasped.  
He pulled away breathlessly, “Sorry, I’m sorry.”  
She muttered incoherently, and pulled his mouth back down. This hunger reminded her vaguely of the uncontrollable force that had saturated her mind in the forest, she pushed the idle thought away. This felt nothing like that had. That was black and tasted of metal, this was… Powerful, and tasted like rain and a forest breeze. She clawed at his tunic, some wild instinct driving her to have him even closer, she felt a rumble in her chest, and a feral growl escaped her lips.  
Legolas pulled away, his eyes cautious as he listened to her rumbling. She smiled impishly, and pushed the magic back, she felt it fade from her eyes as he watched, and his expression lightened a touch. Her eyes travelled down, meaning to ogle his lips, and she froze in shock.  
“You’re bleeding!” She exclaimed, and he touched a hand to his lips. “Did I… Did I do that?” She was horrified. “Did I bite you?” She pushed him away, appalled by her lack of restraint, and paced to the other side of the room, her hand on her lips.  
When she was safely away from him, she turned back and whispered. “I am so sorry.”  
He sucked on his lip briefly and then hurried over to her, he hushed her before she could begin her rambling. His hands were so very gentle as they tilted her head back to look up at him. “It is I who should apologise, I don’t know what has come over me.”  
Ildrith smiled, “Me neither… but at least I have an excuse.”  
He frowned at her playful tone, and poked her nose, “And what is that?”  
She smirked, “Of the two of us I am the only one who can truly blame any control issues on animal instincts.”  
He rolled his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. She inhaled deeply, bewitched by his scent, and rubbed her nose against his affectionately.  
“Well,” She said without thinking, “Animal instincts and hormones. The thrill of first love and all.” He lifted his head quizzically, and she shrugged, “What, you think I have done this before?”  
He ducked his head with a smirk, “And you think I have.” It was a statement more than a question, and Ildrith pressed her lips together.  
“What are you saying?”  
“That I have never experienced this sort of… intimacy before.”  
Ildrith stepped back to better express her shock, “You’re lying?” He shook his head and she gaped. “Never?”  
He shrugged, “Love is not the same for us as it is for you hot blooded mortals.”  
Ildrith frowned, but let it pass, “So you are telling me that in the hundred odd years you’ve trailed the earth, you’ve never had a lover?”  
He flinched at her choice of words and shook his head. “Elves do not take… Lovers. Not like your kind.”  
She frowned, “That seems impossible, Echanar implied that you have live for, well, a few hundred years at least. In all that time you never found anyone you wanted?”  
“No, well, none that lead to this sort of behaviour in any case.”  
Ildrith’s mouth remained open, and her eyes darted back and forth as she considered the implications. He watched her fondly and then decided to shock her further.  
“You must have heard Echanar wrong by the way.” Ildrith closed her mouth, her head tilted quizzically and Legolas laughed. “I have lived for a lot longer than a few hundred years.  
Her eyes widened and she asked, “How long then?”  
He shrugged, “A little over two thousand years.”  
Ildrith staggered back, tripped over a chair, and sat down hard on the nearest surface - a dining table. Legolas rushed over and stroked her hair back carefully.  
“Ildrith?”  
She held up a finger, “Give me a moment please.” She took a few deep breaths and then looked up. “You are two thousand years old?” She looked up at him sceptically.  
He frowned, and nodded.  
She hung her head and let her dark hair fall forward to hide her face.  
“Does it bother you?” He asked timidly, and Ildrith looked up to study his eyes carefully before answering.  
“Yes,” She said honestly, and grabbed his wrist as pain flashed across his eyes. “Not for the reasons you are thinking I’m sure. It bothers me because… Well… You have lived over a hundred times my life. You were right, compared to you I am a child!” His eyes softened, and she felt a crushing sadness settled over her heart. “What are you doing with me?”  
Again, hurt crossed his features and Ildrith let him go. He paced to the opposite end of the room and rubbed his eyes. Ildrith stared out the window, and then watched him as he paced back and forth before the library. He selected a book and brought it back to her. She brushed her hands across the rich lettering and read the title. “Beren and Lúthien. What is this?”  
He crossed his arms, “It is a love story - the greatest my kind has ever known. A love so great and strong that it shaped the world as we know it.” Ildrith studied the cover and then looked up, a question in her eyes. Legolas answered before she could ask, “Beren was human, Lúthien was an elf.”  
He took the book back and placed it carefully on the shelf. Ildrith marked the spot for later, and asked, “What are you trying to tell me?”  
“I am trying to tell you that what I feel for you is real, I am trying to tell you that your age has never mattered to me. Elves have loved your kind before, yes I know you are not human, but you are mortal. And it matters not. I have never felt this kind of love for anyone before, in this we are one, thus our age means nothing.”  
Ildrith smiled at his words and shook her head sadly, “That is very sweet of you to say, but Legolas…”  
He held a finger over her lips, “It doesn’t matter.”  
She smiled and pushed his finger aside, “It mattered earlier, remember?”  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It mattered then because I was scared, how could I feel such strong feelings for someone so young. You have barely lived Ildrith, for me to pursue you in this way is wrong. You don’t know your own heart yet, how could I shove mine upon you?”  
Ildrith hid her face in her hand, trying to wrap her head around the magnitude of this sudden confession. “How long?”  
He frowned and she repeated herself, “How long have you felt this way about me?”  
He shrugged, “This is not the sort of thing that hits you from the sky all at once. You crept up on me since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”  
Ildrith chuckled, “Naked and bleeding in the mud?”  
Legolas blanched, and laughed nervously, “I covered you with my cloak, if that makes you feel better.”  
“A little,” She admitted with a giggle. She cleared her throat, “What do we do now?”  
He walked over to her slowly, “That depends…”  
“On?”  
“Whether or not you are still repulsed by the idea of kissing an old man.”  
Ildrith crinkled her nose and laughed. “Never repulsed, intimidated sure.”  
“Intimidated?”  
She rolled her eyes. “It is like you said, I’ve barely lived. You on the other hand, I cannot even piece together enough words to imagine the things you must have seen. It’s intimidating to know that I’ll always be one step behind you.”  
He frowned, “That’s not true. Elves do not notice the passing of time like you do. When all of eternity stretches before you, there is no rush to do things. For all you know, I might have lain beneath the stars for the past millennia.”  
She chuckled, “Did you?”  
He glanced at the ceiling briefly, “Not the whole time.”  
She laughed, and squirmed on the table, he came to stand before her. His hand touched her knee briefly, a casual gesture, but one that set her mind to goo. She shook her head.  
“Definitely not repulsed.”  
He smiled impishly, and allowed her to draw him close, to stand between her legs. She placed a hand on his chest and bit her lip. He stroked her hair, tucking a long strand behind one ear, and following the gentle curve of her jaw down to her chin.  
“Careful,” she said, as heat built up in her belly, igniting the fire in her eyes.  
His jaw jumped as he watched her breathing spike. “I could waste another eternity right here.” He whispered and she groaned.  
“That’s just not fair.” She said, pulling on his tunic to bring his lips closer to hers. “I don’t have eternity.”  
He closed the distance between their lips, and kissed her tenderly, savouring each tiny movement her mouth made beneath his. Ildrith curbed her appetite, every breath a reminder of her crime as the scent of blood tainted his natural woodsy flavour. She understood his words now. When Legolas kissed her, she forgot that anything else existed in the world, she could quite happily remain right here in his arms forever. His eternity, or hers, whichever came first.  
The was a loud crash, and Ildrith jumped off the table, there could be no mistaking that the sound was that of two heavy oak doors being thrust open in anger. Legolas gripped her shoulders and lifted her off the ground, swinging her round so she was flattened against the wall behind a bookshelf. He leapt away from her towards the window, so when the guards came racing around the corner, he looked as if he was on his way from the ledge.  
Ildrith held her breath as the guards hadn’t seemed to notice her as they passed by.  
“Ná?” Said Legolas, his voice tilted with an understandable degree of irritation.  
“Erain toltholen.” Replied the guard, and Legolas’s irritation melted in place of fear.  
“Unenyal tenë! Suilanna gweith! Lenna hortha, hilyan.”  
The guards looked at each other, clearly not happy with his response, but Ildrith could see the respect they held for him. He was in trouble, but they seemed to want to help him. “Erain ammen menta mapalen.”  
Legolas huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Ildrith remained frozen, she didn’t understand a word they were saying, but the meaning was clear. Legolas was supposed to go with the guards. They stood in the doorway that lead to the atrium, she couldn’t move or they would see her. If they came further into the room they would see her. In short she was stuck, and Legolas dared not look in her direction.  
He sighed and stepped forward. “Deri ettë.” When they remained put he waved them out with his hands, stepping towards them to physically chase them out. “Deri ettë, tulin. Maurë ahyan hyapat!”  
The guards backed away as he shooed them, they went out of sight, and then Legolas came back alone. He was a flurry of activity, muttering to himself in elvish. Ildrith stayed still as a statue, knowing full well that the guards would hear her if she moved. Legolas found his boots and came to put them on right in front of her so he could mutter under his breath.  
“Please forgive me, my father has summoned me. I missed… It doesn’t matter. Forgive me!”  
He paused to touch her cheek briefly, and then flew out the room, calling out in elvish as he went.  
Ildrith counted to fifty, and then took a deep breath, and peeled herself away from the wall. She snuck to the door, which was mercifully open, and then leapt into the hall way and started walking as though she were simply a passer-by. A strangled cough caused her to jump in fright, and she whirled round to see a guard stationed at the entrance to this hallway. She turned a red so deep, she felt sure the walls changed colour. The guard kept his face forward, and didn’t move any more than to incline his head ever so slightly.  
Ildrith turned away, did that mean he had seen her? Or that he had seen her and was going to tell the king?! Or was his nod a sign of comradery? She slapped a hand to her forehead and scurried off in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phrases and Translations:
> 
> Toltho ion nín - Fetch my son  
> Ná - yes  
> Erain toltholen - The king has summoned you  
> Unenyal tenë! Suilanna gweith! Lenna hortha, hilyan - I forgot about the arrival! Greeting the host! Go, I will follow.  
> Erain ammen menta mapalen - the king sent us to escort you  
> Deri ettë - Wait outside  
> Deri ettë, tulin. Maurë ahyan hyapat - Wait outside, I will come, I need to put shoes on.


	10. Igdan

Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
She reached her room without incident, and rushed inside before anyone could notice. She spent a few moments brushing her hair until it was smooth and shiny, focusing on breathing evenly and calming her frayed nerves.  
Suddenly a head popped around her half-closed doors, Ildrith jumped, but managed to maintain her aura of calm as she reclined on the bed.  
It was Othar. “Ildrith… Where have you been?”  
She inclined her head politely, determined to set a good mood between them, she sat up and dangled her legs off the edge. “Evening brother-mine. I had a nap, and then went for a walk. I wanted to thank you, for organising these rooms for me. They are far too grand for me of course, but I appreciate them none the less.”  
Othar eyed her suspiciously, and then sighed in defeat, it was clear by the set of his shoulders that something good had happened. He might not even notice if she was a bit… off this evening. “You are welcome dear sister.” He strode over and embraced her fondly, “Come, Lytham will meet us there.”  
Ildrith stood, and hurried to follow as Othar walked back out her room and turned right. To the dining halls then. He pause, allowing her to catch up, and took her arm in his so they could walk together.  
Ildrith struggled to keep her eyes from searching the room as they crossed into the giant dining hall. This time was different, it was a lot fuller, there was music amidst the chatter, and every fire had a small crowd about it. Every table seemed full, the sheer number of elves had Ildrith hiding behind Othar as they picked their way towards the buffet tables.  
Her brother stopped here and there to exchange pleasantries with the people, and Ildrith peeked from behind him on occasion to wave shyly at them even as they stared openly at her, many inquiring after her recovery. Suddenly Ildrith stopped and gaped at an overly full table near the edge of the hall. Those were Beornings. Othar noticed her hesitation, and walked back to her, a smile plastered on his face.  
“Is that?...” She glanced at Othar, who nodded. Ildrith clasped a hand to her mouth as joy radiated through her.  
Othar laughed, “Go on!” And Ildrith squealed.  
She raced towards the table, unaware that she was turning many a curious head as she bumped into elves and tables alike.  
“Igdan!” She yelled as she neared the crowded table.  
One of the black heads popped up, and a Beorning boy of twenty-four turned his head to witness her coming.  
“Ildrith!” He yelled, and leapt to his feet. The whole table erupted into chaos, and soon fifteen or so Beornings had abandoned their meals and were hugging her, clapping her on the back, or tussling her hair.  
She couldn’t help the tears of joy that welled up and spilled over at the sight of so many of her kin. Many of whom she hadn’t seen since she was a child, but recognised purely from their scent as they embraced her fondly. Her childhood friend Igdan, whom she hadn’t seen since she was sixteen when he left the village to join the Guards in the Mountains, came to her rescue. He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the bench to sit beside him. The rest of the Beornings came back to sit by their meals, except for two who greeted their leader and helped Othar secure an extra table and benches so they could spread out a little.  
Igdan turned and hugged her again once they were seated, and Ildrith laughed giddily.  
“What are you doing here?!” She squealed, swatting him on the arm affectionately. He flinched and tussled her hair in retaliation, she reached up to push his hands away, “Alright, peace, peace!”  
He chuckled and turned to his plate. Ildrith glanced down and gasped, “Where did you find honey cakes?”  
“We brought them with, here you can have half. Only half!” He exclaimed as Ildrith grabbed a whole handful and stuffed it into her mouth. His laughter echoed from the ceiling as he poked her in the ribs so she spat half the cake out trying to control her ticklish response. “You wicked girl!” He laughed and took a deep drag from his mug.  
Ildrith chewed as fast as she could, and sniffed the contents of his mug. Her nose crinkled, “Ugh, mead!”  
Lytham, who had been sitting across from her the entire time, piped up, “Yuk! Close your mouth while you eat, you beast!”  
Ildrith looked up at him, and her joy diminished somewhat. Suddenly she was pulled from the happy nostalgia, back into the complicated present as she remembered Lytham’s embarrassing conversation with Legolas. She smiled tightly at him, and turned back to Igdan, she couldn’t exactly confront Lytham about it anyway.  
“So, what are you doing here?”  
Igdan gestured to himself, “You are looking at a seasoned warrior now little cub!”  
Ildrith’s eyes bulged, “You fought in the war?” He nodded and took another drag of his mead. “Why?” She asked, and Igdan chortled into his drink.  
“Why? Why not?”  
Ildrith gaped, “Because… You could have died you fool!”  
Every Beorning within earshot seemed to roll their eyes in unison, and Ildrith crossed her arms to sulk. Lytham laughed, “Not everyone is as soft hearted as you little sis.”  
Ildrith pouted, “Yeah, well…”  
Igdan poked her cheek, “Quit scowling, you’ll get wrinkles.” Ildrith’s lips twitched, quite unable to resist the joy of having her old friend back. “There’s that smile. So what were you doing then, while the rest of us were slaving away on the battlefield?”  
Ildrith giggled. Igdan never took anything seriously, and somehow he always found a way to turn the direst of circumstances into a trivial matter.  
“I was safe at home actually.”  
He clutched his heart dramatically, “Oh the mere thought!”  
Ildrith smacked him, “It wasn’t all sun and daisies you know.”  
“Sure, sure. That’s why you are living out the rest of your vacation here with the elves, is it?”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes, “Hardly!”  
Lytham took a bite of his dinner roll, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Actually Igdan, the village was attacked.”  
“What?” He said, his playful expression gone. “When?”  
Ildrith held up a hand, “Lytham no.”  
Igdan picked at the wood of his mug and frowned, “Tell me.”  
Lytham raised his eyebrows at Ildrith and she sighed, “Fine, It was after you were finished fighting.”  
“What happened, were you okay?”  
“I don’t know… I sort of… Freaked out, lost control.”  
“You changed?” He asked, eyes wide.  
“It’s not a big deal,” She said, a firm elbow poked into his ribs for emphasis.  
“Ouch! But seriously, you?”  
“I was going to learn eventually, you know. Othar was going to teach me when they got back.”  
“So, what happened?”  
“I scared them off. But…”  
“The blood-lust took you and you set off into the woods after them, intent on avenging the village all by yourself?” Ildrith’s mouth popped open and Igdan laughed, “Seriously? Ugh you are so predictably stupid sometimes.”  
“Hey! Okay fine, it was stupid, I’ll admit, but I got them.”  
His eyebrows shot up, “All of them?” She nodded with a smirk, “Woah, alright! That’s impressive Lil, really.”  
Ildrith peeked up at him, touched that he remembered her old nickname. “Thanks.”  
Lytham sighed, “Finish the story sis.”  
“Oh, you can’t just let me have my moment can you?”  
Lytham smirked, but it was too tense to hold any true mirth. Igdan glanced between them and took a sip of mead, clearly something big had happened between the siblings.  
“One of them managed to get me.” Said Ildrith, her hand touched her side subconsciously and Igdan sucked a noisy breath in between his teeth.  
“How did you survive?” He whispered.  
Ildrith bit her lip, touched by the genuine concern that shadowed his eyes. Where was her carefree friend, the one who would have brushed this all off with a joke and a laugh? Igdan had grown up while they were apart.  
“Ah, I was changed, obviously, and I had set up a medicine camp nearby.” He startled her by laughing then. “What?”  
He shook his head, “Nothing really, that’s just another one of those things only you would do.”  
“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”  
He chuckled, “Yes, please continue.”  
Ildrith glared at him for a moment. “Anyway, so the one orc managed to stab me, his blade broke my arm without getting through, but that made the tip ricochet into my side right here.” She touched the sensitive point just below her heart where the scar sat. She could see that Igdan was dying to interrupt her, but wisely bit his lip and motioned for her to continue. “I was in pretty bad shape. I changed back and passed out before I made it back to the camp. I woke up all wrapped in bandages.”  
“Who found you?”  
“Ah it was Legolas, you know the, ah, the king’s son. You shouldn’t know him, he was fighting in the East when you were here. A dwarf named Gimli, and Legolas found me, and they patched me up. They were the ones I travelled here with.”  
“What?” said Igdan, picking up on Lytham’s sudden tension.  
“Nothing,” said Ildrith, she glared at Lytham and repeated the word through closed teeth. “Nothing.”  
Lytham shrugged and looked away. Igdan pursed his lips and then shrugged.  
“It sounds like you were quite lucky.”  
“Extremely!” Said Ildrith with a dry chuckle. “And yourself? How fared you during the Great War?”  
Igdan brushed the air dismissivly, “Ah, nah, you don’t wanna hear about that. I’m sure you are sick to death of the tale by now.”  
“Not really, come one, I want to hear your side of things.”  
“Another time perhaps, it looks like your brother is trying to catch your attention.”  
Ildrith looked up and around, she saw Othar standing some distance away. He waved her over when he saw her looking, and Ildrith sighed.  
“I guess I better go see what he wants.” She extracted herself from the crowded table, and touched Igdan lightly on his shoulder. “It was really great to see you again Ig.”  
He touched her hand briefly, “You too Lil.”  
She offered Lytham a parting smile, and waved goodbye to all the other people who noticed her parting.  
Othar smiled warmly as she reached him. It heartened him to see her so happy in the company of her own people. He touched her on the shoulder and turned her to face across the room. Ildrith stifled a gulp, Legolas was seated at a small table with Gimli and one or two unfamiliar elves. They were dressed in overtly fancy garb, but seemed to be amicable enough together. Ildrith scanned the surrounding area, and saw that the table was placed a short distance from a set of stairs that lead up to a throne. Upon which sat Legolas’s doppelganger. Ildrith blinked, and her brows furrowed, that must be Legolas's father.  
“The King wishes to meet you.” Othar said, startling her from her reverie.  
Ildrith baulked, “Now? Why?”  
“You are well enough now, and he wishes to meet the girl you caused his son’s return to be shrouded in so much drama and intrigue.”  
Ildrith blushed and bit her lip. “But… I am not… dressed well enough.”  
Othar laughed, “When are you ever? Come, it would be rude to refuse him.”  
Ildrith swallowed and nodded, “Yes, that is true. I do need to thank him after all, why postpone it?”  
Othar smiled and picked his way carefully through the crowded room. Ildrith followed carefully, wringing her hands together nervously. Anything could happen, there was simply no way to prepare herself. When she looked up, she saw that the King had noticed their coming, and began his descent from the throne.  
By the time they reached him, he was standing at the bottom, a glass of wine in one hand. Ildrith kept her eyes on him, terrified what might happen if she so much as glanced in Legolas’s direction.  
Othar greeted him in elvish, and the king replied graciously before turning his uncanny eyes on Ildrith. She curtsied, unsure what else to do seeing as she didn’t know a single line in the sing-song language they all suddenly seemed to speak. When she met his eye again, the king was smirking, his eyes thoughtful.  
“My greetings to you Lady Ildrith,” He said with a small inclination of his head and a twinkle in his eye. “It is a privilege to finally meet you.”  
Ildrith blushed of course, and stammered over her words, “Greetings, oh King. Thank you, for your kind words and your hospitality. It means a great deal to me that you have provided so freely for me and my kin.”  
“My kin and I.” Corrected Othar cheekily, Ildrith glared at him briefly, and then turned back to watch the king.  
He was studying her intently, trying to read her mind, of that she was certain. It was only natural for him to be curious she supposed. What she did not anticipate however was his next move.  
He turned suddenly, and called out, “Legolas, come.”  
Ildrith blanched, and dug her thumb nail into the side of her middle finger to keep from reacting in any way. The king turned back to her.  
“You are most welcome my dear.” He said, “It is an honour indeed to entertain so many of your kind under one roof. Ah here now.”  
He held out a hand, and Legolas appeared from behind him and stood diligently by his side. The king patted his son lightly on the back, and Ildrith risked sneaking a peek at his expression. Legolas’s lips were pressed in a tight line, and his back was stiff with tension. The king scrutinised him closely, and then his eyes shot up to study Ildrith with just as much depth. She squirmed, wondering what exactly he could see with those piercing eyes of his.  
Othar watched the silent exchange with great interest. One sniff in his sister’s direction had told him of her discomfort, and he fought the protective instinct in favour of pride, the king was about to confirm all his suspicions...  
Thranduil’s nostrils flared, in the space of a few seconds he seemed to have deduced all there was to know. He turned to his son, and Legolas flinched before he had said a single word.  
“Legolas, ped!”  
Legolas turned to his father and said a single line in Sindarin, too fast for Ildrith or her brother to catch. The king’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Ildrith took half a step instinctively to protect Legolas. Thranduil’s eyes turned on her, and she shrank away.  
“Nae, hathand.” He said sternly. He turned to Legolas, “Fine, we will discuss this later.”  
He looked to Othar, and smiled elegantly. Ildrith’s hackles raised, it was almost impossible to detect the falsehood behind the King’s warm smile. “It was very nice to see you both.” He met Ildrith’s fearful gaze with a burning intensity and added, “I am sure we will meet again, child.”  
Othar grabbed her arm when she remained planted despite the clear dismissal. Her eyes flashed to Legolas, and he shook his head infinitesimally. She allowed herself to be towed away, wondering how the King could be so perceptive.  
They crossed the strange little bridge that separated the King from his subjects, and Ildrith shook her arm free. Othar turned to her and she held up a hand.  
“I need to go and see Echanar.” Othar raised an eyebrow and Ildrith sighed, “I’ll see you in the morning, please Othar I can't do this right now. I am so tired.”  
He frowned, but motioned for her to go, turning his back on her without a word. Ildrith close her eyes and sighed. What a strange day.  
She, rather shockingly, remembered her way back to the halls of healing. This time round she walked slowly, taking extra time to fully appreciated the brilliance of the elves’ architecture along the way.  
The halls were built into the side of the only decently sized hilltop in all Mirkwood, and, despite it being an underground fortress, Ildrith didn’t feel the least bit claustrophobic. The halls were all adequately lit, and cool air blew past her in draughts of unidentifiable origin, carrying with them the scents of the forest. Guards littered every hallway, and she felt completely at ease knowing that if she became lost, they would be able to point her in the right direction.  
Echanar was overly pleased to see her, remarking about the colour in her cheeks and spring in her step. He was just sitting to dinner when she arrived, and happily chatted with her about unimportant things while he ate. Giving her less of a physical analysis, and more of a psychological one, he let her go with a promise to check in on the morrow. Which Ildrith happily gave, and took her leave. She felt a tad guilty for abandoning her friend so suddenly, but she had the sudden inescapable need to be back in her rooms. An insane notion that someone would be waiting there for her.  
When she burst through her doors though, the only thing that awaited her was a cold draught from the open windows, and a dark bedroom. She sighed and set about closing the curtains and lighting candles.  
Someone had been kind enough to light the modest fireplace for her, she stumbled over to her bed and dragged the soft blanket and a pillow from its inviting embrace. She just knew the bed would be too soft for her tonight, and she found herself craving the warmth of the fire rather than the coolness of the sheets. She lay for a long time before the fire, her mind running itself in endless circles.  
Ildrith couldn’t help but wonder if the appearance of the Beornings had something to do with the secret her brothers were keeping from her. Seeing Igdan again had been an unexpected delight, she couldn’t believe how much he had grown, not just in maturity either. She had always been smaller than her kin, at only five foot six, she was short in the company of most creatures if she was honest. Igdan was never that much taller than her, and even though he was five years her senior they had always got on very well. He had been her best friend, and when he left to join the Guard in the Mountains, she had been devastated. She honestly never thought she would see him again, but here he was. No longer the gangly nineteen year old who tugged on her braids and filled her boots with mud. The feast was going to be a lot more fun with him around.  
As soon as the thought crossed her mind however, she cringed. Legolas. That delectable complication that kept popping up whenever her eyes drifted happily towards sleep. Her stomach twisted itself into white hot knots when she thought of their sunlit afternoon together. She felt giddy like a proper love-struck teenager, but couldn’t quite sink in to the warm and fuzzy feelings when she knew that their tryst was all but forbidden. Among both their people. She wanted nothing more than to run to his room right now and sit with him by his fire, they could share a blanket, and she could tell him about Igdan.  
Igdan. How she longed in that moment to find her old friend. She could tell him about Legolas, and he would chase her fears away with a joke and a smile. She slapped her pillow, and sighed. If she had any idea where he was staying, that’s exactly what she would do.  
She tossed three small logs onto the fire and settled down to doze off watching the flickering flames. Eventually her thoughts would tire themselves out, and then resurface in the twisted shape of her colourful dreams.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
She woke early the next morning, her lungs regrettably full of smoke. A brief bathroom break and freezing bath fixed any misgivings she might have had about the day. When she opened the wardrobe, she found her fingers lingering on the pretty dresses rather than shying away. She debated with herself for a long time, her own clothes (the one remaining set), lay crumpled and filthy in the corner of the bedroom. She gave in with a sigh and pulled one of the simple cream coloured cotton dresses over her head. Accompanying it on the rail was a simple brown belt, and Ildrith donned this gratefully, letting it hang from her hips at such an angle that her smallest medicine pouch could be tied neatly alongside her little dagger.  
These simple additions boosted her confidence, and she made her way boldly to the door, determined to visit Echanar before starting the rest of her day. She had given it much thought, and decided she was strong enough to venture into society as a functional individual. If she could survive the previous day, she could survive anything.  
The sun had barely risen when she arrived at the Halls of healing, she helped herself to the fire in the tea room, setting a small pot of water to boil while she made a mug of tea for herself. When the tea was steeped, boiled and drunk at a leisurely pace, Ildrith heard Echanar moving about in the wards. She poked her head out and called to him softly.  
“Ah, Ildrith, I thought it might be you.”  
She smiled, “Would you like a cup?”  
He shook his head and made his way over to her, “Not for now, come and sit, let me examine you.” She followed his lead and sat in one of two wooden chairs that faced each other in his office next door to the tea room. It was sparsely decorated, and Ildrith soon lost interest in her surroundings. “Did you sleep well?” He asked softly.  
She nodded, keeping quiet and still as he went through the motions of checking her vitals, blood pressure and iron density. The blood sank to just over halfway in the blue mixture this time, and Echanar smiled.  
“You are improving. Still, I wanted to give you this,” he passed her a small stoppered vial, “it contains the blood building mixture from before. This has three doses in it, and I want you to take one dose every second day, starting right now at breakfast.”  
Ildrith grimaced, “I was rather hoping we were finished with this.”  
Echanar smiled in sympathy, and rubbed his hands together. “Right, other than that, I think we are done.”  
Ildrith popped the vile into her little pouch and stood. “Thank you Echanar, truly, for everything. I know now that I would have died without your intervention and skill.”  
Echanar reached out and clasped her hands in his. “You were a most rewarding patient Ildrith. Not all would have been so lucky in your condition.” Ildrith bobbed her head and squeezed his hands. He led her to the door, “How are you finding your new rooms?”  
“Pfft, they are far too grand for me! That being said, it is nice to have a place to call my own while we are here.”  
“I take it your brothers are remaining enigmatic on the subject of the feast?”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes, “Not you too! What is it that everyone must remain so taciturn about?”  
“I must say I do not agree with the whole surprise aspect, but I will hold my tongue as asked. I can tell you this, it is nothing to make a spectacle of yourself. So wipe that haunted scowl from your face, and look forward to the day.”  
Ildrith frowned, but heeded his warning. “Very well, I will. When exactly is everything happening by the way? I am a bit turned around.”  
“Tomorrow evening will mark the official start of the festivities, and yes, I deem you sound enough of mind to govern your own body. You may choose when to stay away and when to go. I am sure you will have plenty of… assistance dealing with the finer aspects of the magic involved.”  
“What does that mean?” She asked, exasperated once more.  
Echanar smirked, but held his tongue on the matter, choosing instead a new topic as they walked. “Did you see any of your kin after their arrival?”  
Ildrith nodded and smiled, “Yes! My brothers didn’t tell me they had come, nor that they were coming at all. It was a wonderful surprise to bump into them at dinner last night.”  
“I am pleased to hear it.” Said Echanar softly.  
Ildrith stared ahead, startled to realise that Echanar had walked her right past all familiarity and deposited her by the foot of a large stone stairway that lead up into a stream of sunlight.  
“I think you will find what you are looking for up those stairs. Do not forget about your medicine!” He said in parting, and the pretty elf turned on his heel and swiftly disappeared from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Igdan is pronounced Ich-dan, with the ‘ch’ pronounced as in the German word ‘ich’ (“I”)  
> Ped - Speak  
> Nae hathand¬ - Alas, it (is) true


	11. Unexpected Pleasantries

Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.  
Warnings: Adult themes, sort of…  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Ildrith frowned at the stairs, she had no idea what he meant, she didn’t know herself what she was looking for. Who would she be more happy to see right now? Her best friend, or her… Legolas, whatever he was.  
She cast a final glance over her shoulders and then shrugged and ascended the stairs. Shielding her eyes against the pale morning light, she quickly realised that her dress was too long to be left to its own devices. She tripped a final time, and then resolved herself to being blind, and lifted the skirt for the final few steps.  
She blinked the discomfort away, and then gasped. The stairs opened out onto the hill top. Her boots touched soft grass, and she walked forward to better take in the whole view. It was massive, so much so that she couldn’t quite see where the forest dipped back down towards the ground. There were a few elves scattered about up here, most simply lounging around enjoying the sunshine, some passed her in groups fully clad in armour. All cast her a curious glance or two before either offering her a warm smile, or returning to their tasks.  
She heard the soft whinny of a horse, and set off to find its source. A full stable yard greeted her behind a clump of Ironwood and cedar trees. She gasped, wondering if this is what Echanar was alluding to. She stumbled forward, and cursed herself for wearing a silly dress.  
The horses were magnificent, but they were not the only creatures in attendance. Dotted among the steeds were Stags, and a few doe. Ildrith scrunched up her nose, surely these were riding animals, but she had never seen someone ride a stag before. She moved closer, and one of the horses on the edge lifted its dun head, nostrils flaring as it scented her. She paused and held out her hand, offering the steed soft soothing noises for reassurance.  
The horse snorted and took a step towards her, she responded in kind, and the horse dipped its noble head to press his soft nose in her palm. Ildrith giggled, and scratched his neck.  
“Hello, good boy.” She murmured in the language of the beasts.  
The horse snorted and moved away. Ildrith chuckled and walked forward to move among the herd. Every animal was splendid, they were bred tall, and light. Her own people’s horses were heavier draught breeds, built to carry her sturdy brothers and folk like them. One of the stags, a great shaggy beast with large antlers studied her with an intelligent eye. She extended a hand in greeting. The stag snorted and turned its head away. Ildrith chuckled as an errant thought crossed her mind, the beast reminded her of Thranduil.  
She moved away from the herd, keen to find someone who could tell her which horses she was allowed to ride. An exercise arena could be heard nearby, hooves thundered in the distance, and Ildrith swore she could hear the dull thud of arrows being buried in targets. She hopped lightly over the small fence and made her way towards the sound.  
As she neared, she knew she was correct, two or three elves loitered against a nearby fence, beyond which a large space had been cleared and filled with soft sand. Four horses darted about, two of which held elves who engaged in sword-play from the backs of their steeds. The elves were magnificent to watch as they rode with no saddles, and the barest of bridles. Both had long brunette hair, and only one of them had tied theirs back. It was clear from their garb and stature that the elves were male, but they fought with the elegance and dexterity seen only in the most graceful of dancers. Their swords met and clashed again and again while their steeds danced underfoot, restless but obedient as their masters performed complicated feats of war upon their backs.  
So entranced was she, that she almost fell over when a grey steed thundered past right before her against the fence. Her eyes quickly followed its movements, and she gasped. The rider was Legolas. He guided the steed with his knees, a horse-bow in his hands and a nearly empty quiver moved against his leg. He lifted three arrows, and loosed them one at a time with lightning speed into three targets. The first was hanging from a tree, and the board swung with a dull thud as the arrow pierced its centre. The second was attached to the fence, and the arrow embedded neatly in its surface too. The final target was on the ground, and Legolas had to twist his bow behind his back to shoot at an impossible angle and hit the centre of the target accurately as the horse thundered past. She heard his low voice ask the horse to slow, and turned it to come back towards her. She stepped back from the fence. He passed her without seeming to see her, and hopped neatly from the steed’s back before the group of elves she had noticed earlier.  
“There is nothing wrong with her Uric.” He commented, his hand resting gently on the mare’s heaving sides. “She is a little unfit, but that will not stop her from obeying your commands.”  
The elves for some reason all turned to her as he said this, she blushed and looked at Legolas uncertainly. He smiled warmly and gestured for her to join them. She hurried forward.  
“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to intrude.”  
“You are not intruding.” He said fondly, and turned his attention back to a flaxen haired elf who cast her a brief glance and then settled his attention on the mare.  
“Of course she will behave for you.” He spoke with a strong accent, and Ildrith understood their questioning glances. Legolas had lead with the common tongue for her benefit alone. “Did you not feel what I was speaking about?”  
Legolas shrugged and scratched the mare’s neck. “Perhaps, in the beginning she was hesitant to go near the targets. But that is your problem, not hers. If you listen to her fears, then she will believe they are real.”  
One of the other elves, a female Ildrith realised, laughed in a high thrill and slapped Uric on the back. “I told you! He would not listen until you told him so, of course.” Her accent was better, and she turned to appraise Ildrith. “Do you ride, young Beorning?”  
Ildrith blushed, “Yes, a bit. Nothing like this, of course.”  
The elf tittered again, “Come, we must ride together, and I will see how truthful you are being.”  
Ildrith blushed, furious with herself once more for dressing like an idiot. “Right now?”  
The elf nodded, and held out her hand. “I am Loré.”  
Ildrith stared at her for a moment, and the elf laughed and snatched her hand, “Come Ildrith, yes I know who you are, we must ride together!”  
Ildrith allowed herself to be dragged along, with one hesitant glance towards Legolas who simply shrugged and struggled to maintain his mask of indifference.  
Loré hopped neatly over the fence leading to the horses Ildrith had been speaking with earlier, making her own attempts at conquering the fence look garish and clumsy. She was in shock, marvelling at how light and happy this elf seemed compared to Legolas, Thranduil and Echanar. Even all the guards so far had seemed so grave in comparison. She wondered idly if it was a female thing, or if the elves she had met thus far simply preferred donning a grim exterior to keep the riff-raff at bay.  
Loré skittled off into the horses, and returned almost immediately astride a dappled grey. “Come Ildrith, choose a horse.”  
Ildrith gaped, “Any of them?”  
Loré nodded with a smile. Ildrith stared out at the field, trying to spot the dun from earlier who had accepted her friendship so easily. She asked aloud, and spotted him trotting towards her, his ears flat back, an ugly sneer curling his lip. Loré laughed even louder.  
“Of course the bear would choose a lion to ride!”  
Ildrith hopped off the fence and murmured to the bolshie colt. He shook his head and pricked his ears, Ildrith understood, he was just grumpy that she interrupted his breakfast.  
She asked him nicely if he could stand by the fence while she mounted, and he plod over to the fence and stood patiently for her to clamber up. As she tried to extend her leg on the fence, she blushed, realising the extent of her wardrobe malfunction. Loré waited patiently, a twinkle in her eyes. Ildrith glanced at her, and huffed, there was no way she was going to let the elf show her up.  
She sat on the top pole for balance, and loosed the dagger from her side. She bent to the hem of her skirt, hesitated, then shrugged. Lytham seemed to think they were hers to do with what she wished, at least that was what he had implied. She pierced the fabric, and sliced confidently up to just above her knees on either side.  
She lifted her leg and smiled, that would do, the fabric parted easily to allow her knees to bend. Once the dagger was safely packed away, she hopped neatly onto the dun’s back, and asked him if he was happy with her weight and the way she was sitting. He sneezed to emphasize his disinterest, and Ildrith chuckled. She glanced up and saw not only Loré, but Legolas, and the other two elves watching her curiously. Her eyes strayed a little further, and there was Igdan, leading his giant piebald charger.  
She cleared her throat and resisted the urge to fidget with her ripped dress as she turned her attention back to Loré. “So, where are we going?”  
Loré smirked impishly and clicked at her mare. Ildrith paused, and glanced towards her audience.  
“Are you coming?” She asked with a cheeky grin for whoever chose to accept it, and click to her dun. She folded her hands in his long mane for balance as he burst into canter, and surged forward to catch the grey.  
Loré glanced back once to make sure Ildrith was following, and then threw her hands in the air and whooped into the wind. Ildrith chuckled, and followed close behind as she led them all the way the opposite end of the hilltop. She slowed to a trot, and then calmly walked over the edge.  
Ildrith sat up and called, “Woah boy!” The dun came to a halt, and then crept forward confidently, he knew about the winding path that lead to the bottom and out into the forest.  
Ildrith bit her lip, thinking she should call him off, her eyes darting fearfully into the trees below. Loré called to her from the bottom, and she steeled her nerves, nothing bad could touch her while she was with an elf, especially not this close to the kingdom. Besides, her only other option was turning back…  
The path was steep, but she trusted the dun, who assured her that he had done this trip many a time. When she got to the bottom Loré raised an eyebrow, her eyes touched with concern.  
“Are you alright?”  
Ildrith nodded, and smiled. Loré returned her grin, and clicked her horse into canter once more. Ildrith held on as the dun raced to catch up, and then released the mane and let her hands fall out to catch the gentle wind as they cantered through the trees. Loré called them to a stop a short time later, when Ildrith looked back she could still see the path leading up the hill quite easily, they hadn’t gone far at all. Loré dismounted, and gestured for Ildrith to do the same.  
She hopped down, and noticed the little stream that ran past their feet from the hill. Loré bent and scooped up a handful of the water, she brought it to her lips for a brief drink, and then splashed her face. Ildrith watched her in amazement, Loré noticed her scrutiny and smiled sheepishly.  
“What is it?”  
“Nothing, you’re just so…”  
Loré laughed, “My suspicions are confirmed! You have spent too much time with Legolas.” Ildrith frowned and the elf shrugged, “Not all of us are so serious all the time you know.”  
Ildrith smiled, “I thought as much.”  
Loré folded gracefully onto the ground and kicked off her boots, her toes curled into the water and she shivered, then patted the ground next to her. Ildrith sat beside her and removed her own boots carefully, scared they might smell and ruin her apparent new friendship. She flinched at the harsh cold of the water, and then wriggled her toes.  
“So you can ride,” said Loré thoughtfully.  
Ildrith shrugged, “As I said, but nothing like what they were doing up there.”  
“Not all elves can ride as well as Legolas, so use him not as a marker for my kind.”  
Ildrith studied the strange elf for a moment, admiring the carefree set of her shoulders, the laugh lines that showed on an otherwise perfect face. Her russet-brown hair cascaded in tangled waves down her back, the odd braid keeping it from going completely off on its own.  
She suddenly turned to Ildrith and smiled, “You can talk to me you know.”  
Ildrith frowned, “Erm, thank you.”  
She laughed, “About the prince, silly.” Ildrith gaped, her heart freezing with apprehension. Loré glanced over and rolled her eyes, “Relax, not everyone is as perceptive as me, and I will keep your secret.”  
Ildrith cringed, “What gave me away?”  
“I have known that boy his entire life, do you think I would not notice when he shows up for training all moon eyed and in love?”  
Ildrith watched her carefully, and whispered, “In love?”  
Loré’s smile faded and she pulled her feet from the water to sit cross-legged facing Ildrith. “Dear child,” she paused and studied Ildrith carefully. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline, and she shook her head. “You can’t be, but I suppose you are. Well, it matters not. In truth it is better, is it not?”  
Ildrith frowned and started to pick at the grass while she watched the water roll a small pebble in circles and waited for the elf to make sense. Loré sighed.  
“Yes, dear one, our prince is in love with you. Foolish as it may be for him to fall for someone like you, especially someone as young as you! No, turn your anger somewhere else, I speak only truth. You are young, even for your own kind, especially for your own kind. You are not as fleeting in your mortality as the poor humans. I have surprised you? I knew your father, fought with him even, in the battle of five armies. You have not heard the tale? Eh, it matters little. Perhaps if you find me during the feast when I have succumbed to the pressures of my peers and parted with enough of my sanity, perhaps then I shall tell you more. But you distract me little minx, I just want you to know that you can talk to me. I know that boy better than most, and as I said, others are not as perceptive. I am extending the hand of friendship, and one of council. Not even your feisty brothers could prevent you from making a friend among us now could they?” She jumped to her feet, and replaced her shoes. Ildrith’s head spun with the elf’s erratic behaviour, and she started to get to her feet.  
“Nay little one, I think I shall ride back alone.” Ildrith leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with fear at the thought of being abandoned, but Loré laughed. “Relax child, your prince is coming to rescue you.” She stroked her chin with faux thought and said, “Hmmm I think I shall ask your tall friend, Igdan? If he wants to join me for breakfast…”  
With that she sprung onto the grey mare’s back, and cantered off towards the hill. Ildrith called after her, and then flopped her arms against her side in frustration. She had but a moment to gather her thoughts before Legolas trotted into the clearing and hopped nimbly off his own bay colt. The dun raised his head briefly, and then continued grazing.  
Ildrith raised her hand shyly, “Hi.”  
Legolas smirked, “Hi.” His eyes darted down, “I like your dress.” Ildrith blushed and smoothed the front self-consciously. “Don’t be embarrassed, whoever filled your wardrobe with that sort of garb was a fool. I will help you remedy it as soon as possible.”  
“Do you think they’ll be mad at me for ripping it?”  
“Never, it might even serve to speed up the process of renewal.”  
Ildrith smiled, and bit her lip. She wrung her hands awkwardly, and stared past him into the trees.  
“So, uh, Loré is quite a character.” She said to break her inner tension.  
Legolas wandered in her direction, and then turned and stroked her dun’s back soothingly. “Yes, she has never been the most subtle of individuals, but she means well.”  
“I like her,” Ildrith decided, “Even if she terrifies me a little bit.”  
Legolas glanced over, “Just a little?”  
Ildrith shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Maybe more than a little.” She frowned and cleared her throat, “Er, can she be trusted?”  
Legolas frowned in turn, “Why? What did she say?”  
“Nothing much, but she knows.” Legolas’s eyebrows shot up and Ildrith nodded, “Yeah, I didn’t tell her though.”  
He picked a leaf from the dun’s mane and walked in a slow circle away from him towards the stream and Ildrith. He picked the apart leaf absently, deep in thought.  
“Of course she knows.” He said at last, and Ildrith shared her apprehension. Legolas shrugged, “She is most perceptive, and she has known me for a long time. It is not surprising that she would notice something was… different.” Ildrith hugged her arms, and Legolas said in a soothing tone, “Fear not, she can be trusted. It is interesting, and encouraging, that she took such an interest in you. She is not always so accommodating.”  
Ildrith shivered, “I can see how that could happen.”  
The elf’s erratic behaviour played back in her mind and she mused about what it could be like when she meant to be unkind. She shook her head and returned her attention to Legolas. He was watching her cautiously, and her anxiety heightened.  
He frowned, “What is wrong?”  
She twisted her hands together, and kept her eyes down. “I’m not sure what to do. How to behave around you now.”  
In a second he was before her a breath of relief left his lips as he caught her hands. “Is that all?” She nodded and he said a tad breathlessly, “I thought maybe…”  
She looked up, her eyes softened at the lines of worry that creased his brow. “What?”  
“I thought that maybe you had changed your mind.”  
Ildrith let out a single chuckle and slumped forward so her head rested against his chest. She freed her hands from his grasp, and wrapped them carefully around his torso.  
“Never,” She breathed, and felt his arms embrace her as his lips touched the top of her head briefly. She inhaled deeply, and felt her knees weaken. He smelt even better out here beneath the trees, as his scent melded with the other earthy aromas. When she raised her head, her eyes glowed with the magic and he touched her cheek in wonder.  
She ducked her head, and pushed the magic back into its box. She bit her lip, and asked timidly, “Did you get in trouble?”  
Legolas sighed, and began playing absently with a strand of hair that had fallen forward over her shoulder. “Last night? Not really…”  
She cringed, “That bad huh?”  
“Not at all, at least not because of… us. My father too is more perceptive than most. His concerns however, are not grounded in forbiddance.” Ildrith frowned and he continued, “He worries about your brothers for one thing, and you, but he is not entirely against the idea. There is hope that he will come around.”  
“Why did you get in trouble then?”  
“I was supposed to be with your brother, and my father, when your people arrived yesterday. It was quite rude of me to forget so thoughtlessly, their arrival was a momentous occasion. He had every right to be so furious.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, unsure what to say to that. “Uh, then, why is he worried about me?”  
Legolas frowned, and stared at the hair he played with rather than meeting her eyes. “He is concerned that you are infatuated with me.”  
She smiled, “Well, that’s true, I am.”  
His frown stayed put, “Infatuations end.”  
“Oh,” She said and pouted. “Well in that case I am quite the opposite.”  
He raised an eyebrow and met her gaze, “You are indifferent?”  
She laughed and smacked his arm, “Be serious!”  
He smiled briefly and dropped her hair. He touched her cheek tenderly, “I am serious.”  
“As am I.” She said, “This is not some fleeting fancy.”  
His hand cupped her face, and his eyes grew a little sad. “This is not going to be easy.”  
She scoffed indelicately, “You are just realising this now?” He shook his head. “Believe it or not, I am ready to fight for you.” He raised an eyebrow and she giggled, “You doubt me?”  
He smiled, “Never! I just hope you know what that means.”  
“I believe I do.” She ducked her head and blushed.  
He raised her chin so her eyes found his, “What is it?”  
“I’m not used to this, feeling so… conflicted.”  
“Conflicted?”  
“You know… Like I want to bare my fangs and tear apart anyone who dares look at you sideways, but at the same time that no one else really exists and all I want to do is kiss you until the forest bursts into flame around us.” He smirked, and Ildrith paused, her cheeks reddening. “What?”  
“I believe I know what you mean.” She smiled and ducked her head again.  
He dipped his head and stole her lips with his own. Ildrith threw her hands around his neck, aligning her body with his to deepen the kiss. Her memories from the previous evening hadn’t done him any justice. Desire rippled through her, and she moaned into his mouth. His hand left her cheek, and travelled down her shoulder and traced a line of fire down her side before coming to rest on her waist. She felt the magic ignite in her mind, and growled in response. She pushed against his chest, and was startled to find herself falling all of a sudden, she landed with a huff on his chest and he chuckled at her startled expression.  
The throaty sound of his laughter resonated in her ears, and she forgot to feel embarrassed. She propped herself up on an elbow, and rested her left hand on his chest. He stared up at the trees, his expression as carefree as she’d ever seen it. She tucked her hair over her right shoulder, so it wouldn’t hang between them, and lowered her lips to his. Her left leg was bent and rested over his prone form, when he flipped her suddenly, reversing their positions, her foot fell flat on the ground to anchor her.  
One of his hands travelled up and down her side, trailing fire and ice as it went. His hand suddenly paused, and he pulled his lips from hers. He looked down, and then met her eyes with a soft groan, reclaiming her lips with fiery intensity. Ildrith squeaked, realising what had happened when his trembling fingers brushed the bare skin of her thigh unexpectedly through the tear in her dress. He withdrew his hand immediately and broke their kiss, sitting up suddenly.  
Ildrith lay on her back, breathing heavily and watching the trees as she waited for her excitement to die down enough to trust her words. Eventually she sat up, and knelt before Legolas, who sat cross-legged and watched her warily.  
“Are you alright?” She asked softly.  
He chuckled breathlessly, and rubbed his eyes. “No, I think not.”  
She bit her lip, “Is it something I did?”  
He met her eye with an impish grin, “Yes, wicked girl! You are driving me to insanity! Eru, if we were in my room instead of here beneath the trees. The foolishness that enters the mind when one is bewitched by such a creature!”  
She frowned, struggling to keep up. “Er, sorry?”  
Ildrith was startled to see his cheeks as red as hers felt, his eyes bright with a light she never thought possible. He laughed, and reached over to pull her forward until she was kneeling before him, his legs on either side of her.  
“You are impossibly tempting.” He said.  
She grimaced, “Maybe so, but you are not making this easy for me either.”  
“How so?”  
She rolled her eyes and leaned forward to poke his nose with her own, “I told you before, animal instincts.”  
She sat back on her heels, and watched as his pupils dilated briefly. He smiled in understanding, and got to his feet, pulling her up with him.  
“Come dear one, before we get ourselves further into trouble. Besides, it is breakfast time.” He held her hand, and guided her to the dun, who looked up curiously and sniffed their joined hands.  
“What do we smell like?” She asked in the tongue of beasts.  
The dun snorted, his top lip raised in a typical Flehmen response, and Ildrith laughed.  
Legolas released her hand, and stroked the dun’s cheek. “What did you say to him?”  
“Hmm? Oh, I asked him what we smelt like.”  
Legolas laughed, and gave her a leg-up so she could keep the edges of her dress down and preserve her modesty somewhat. He leapt onto the bay’s back with ease, and they rode beside each other at a leisurely walk.  
“What is his name?” Asked Ildrith, stroking the dun’s neck.  
Legolas frowned for a moment, and then said “Mellon.”  
Ildrith laughed, “You named him ‘friend’?”  
“Here I was under the impression that you could not speak Sindarin.”  
She shook her head, “I can’t, I just know that word.”  
“He was named thus by the elf who rides him.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, “Will he mind? That I borrowed him for this?”  
“Not in the least. He is a guard, and I know that he has been on day duty for at least a week. I am sure he will be grateful that you have exercised Mellon for him. As I am sure you have noticed, his mood can be rather foul when he doesn’t get his way.”  
As if to emphasise his point, Mellon pinned back his ears and snapped at the petite bay beside him. Ildrith admonished him, and he relaxed somewhat.  
“And him?” She asked, nodding towards Legolas’s mount.  
“He is too young to have a master, or a name.”  
“Why are you riding him then?”  
He reached down and scratched his shoulder, “He is old enough to learn how to take a rider, and I thought he would enjoy the outing.”  
They had reached the beginning of the steep pathway, and Ildrith asked Mellon to hang back so Legolas could lead the way. She looped her hands in his long mane, and leant forward, keeping her head ducked until she felt him straighten out at the top.  
Legolas’s colt was prancing, and Ildrith had a crazy impulse.  
“Race you back!” She shouted before clicking to the dun. He caught onto her meaning immediately, surging forward into a gallop that left the edge of the hill in dust. Ildrith flattened against the colt’s neck, and risked a peek to the side, Legolas was right there, his steed keeping pace easily until the end when he pulled him up and let Ildrith win. She called for Mellon to halt, as they rounded the edge of the fence and passed through the informal gate. She hopped off his back and patted him fondly. He hadn’t yet broke a sweat, but she scratched at the marks her legs had made in his fur as she waited for Legolas to release his own mount by her side.  
They watched the pair walk off amicably back to their herd. Ildrith then turned to Legolas and said, “Breakfast?”  
He smiled and nodded, settling into stride by her side as she made her way back to the staircase. Ildrith cast an inconspicuous glance around, looking for but failing to find any sign of Igdan or other Beornings.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
As they neared the great hall, Ildrith tensed. “Are we going in together?”  
Legolas paused, “I do not foresee an issue.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, “We don’t have to, if you’d rather save your hide?”  
He chuckled and tussled her hair. “Relax, I am not planning to sweep the breakfast buns off the table and have my way with you among the fruit juice.”  
Ildrith blushed and stared at him aghast. He laughed at her startled expression, she felt her heart skip a beat. It was rare indeed to see him so light hearted.  
“Alright then, but if there is any trouble, feel free to abandon me.”  
“I will do nothing of the sort! Besides, this will be a good test run.”  
He started walking, and Ildrith hurried to keep up, “Test run?”  
“Precisely, we shall be able to see if our reputations can hold up under the scrutiny of the breakfast folk.”  
Ildrith shook her head, and scanned the sparse crowds anxiously for her siblings. So far as she could tell, they were absent. Gimli however, was piling his plate full of bacon, and waved them over as he saw they were inbound. Ildrith filled her usual mug with honey, and then settled on a selection of fresh crispy rolls and a handful of blackberries. Either her kin had cleared the table of honey cakes already, or the chef’s hadn’t been told how to cater for a herd of bears just yet.  
Legolas’s plate was similarly full, but his contained a variety of fruits rather than bread. Gimli waited patiently for them at the end of the line, and greeted Ildrith with a shocked stare.  
“Gracious, lass what happened to your dress?”  
Ildrith balked and blushed, “Oh, I forgot about that! I, er, made some modifications so I could go for a ride this morning.”  
Gimli continued to stare, “Did you fall off?”  
Ildrith frowned, “No, why?”  
He gestured to her hair, “It looks like you lost a fight with a whirlwind.”  
She gasped and nearly tipped honey on herself in an attempt to smooth her tresses. “Oh bother, uhm, that. Well that is from…”  
Legolas chuckled at her incoherency, and saved her, “She went for a ride with Loré.”  
Gimli nodded, “Ah! I see, my condolences.”  
Ildrith blushed, and tried to recapture her composure as they started making their way to a free table. “Not necessary I assure you, she was a pleasure to ride with.”  
“Ye must be a good rider then.” Said Gimli as he set his plate down at the table next to Legolas.  
Ildrith shrugged and set her plate down to face them. Before she could answer, an elf sized firecracker launched itself over the table and landed in the spot next to her on the bench. It was Loré.  
“Well then, back so soon?” She asked mischievously.  
Gimli grunted a greeting and said, “Really Loré, ye could have at least cleaned her up before ye returned her.”  
Loré turned to study Ildrith, her eyes sparkling. “Oh my, well I am pleased with my morning’s work after all.” Ildrith blushed and reached up to pick the worst of the leaves from her hair. Loré looked over to Legolas and asked innocently, “What happened to you then?”  
Gimli seemed to look at his friend for the first time, and his eyes widened at the errant leaves that littered his hair and clothes. Loré smiled brilliantly, and stood abruptly.  
“Well, this has been fun!” Her keen eyes darted up and she leapt back over the table and pulled Legolas to his feet. “Come my prince, we have that important meeting to attend.”  
Legolas frowned at her, and then followed her eyes. His nostrils flared, and he extracted himself from the table swiftly.  
“Of course, how could I forget? Please excuse me.” He grabbed his food and drink, and allowed himself to be towed away by the overly energetic Silvan elf.  
Ildrith turned to Gimli who asked, “What was that about?” She took a bite of her first crunchy roll and shrugged.  
Another body descended next to her, and Ildrith flinched.  
“Morning sis.” Came Lytham’s greeting. Othar settled himself a respectable distance from the dwarf on the other side of the table, and Igdan join him.  
“Good morning Ildrith, Gimli.” Said Othar, the dwarf inclined his head, a furrow between his brows as he put all the pieces of the puzzle together. He looked up at Ildrith quizzically, and she pleaded with him silently.  
Lytham elbowed his sister, and picked a leaf from her hair. He dropped it onto her plate and asked, “Why so festive?”  
Ildrith laughed, the sound coming out high and dry. She cleared her throat, “Echanar showed me to the stables this morning.”  
Lytham frowned. “You didn’t go riding?!”  
She folded her arms stubbornly, “I did too! I met a lovely elf lady called Loré who showed me around and let me ride one of the horses.”  
Othar raised his eyebrows, “Did you fall off?”  
Ildrith opened her mouth to speak, but Igdan cut her off, “Excuse me, I believe introductions are in order.” He leaned over Othar and extended a hand to Gimli who chuckled and grasped his hand firmly.  
“Gimli,” He grunted.  
“I am Igdan. Pleasure to meet you, I believe we have much to discuss, however I am curious about the answer to Othar’s question. Ildrith did you get attacked by a tree?”  
Ildrith attempted to answer once more, but this time Gimli cut her off. “Apologies young masters, but the elf in question, Loré, embodies the eccentricities of the Silvan race. I would not be surprised if your sister is clad in leaves due to some or other hide-and-seek spectacle.”  
Lytham frowned, “Echanar said you were well enough to cavort with such characters?”  
Ildrith shrugged, “He wouldn’t have dropped me off at the stables otherwise.”  
Othar met his sister’s eye and smiled warmly. “You look like you had fun sister-mine, I am glad.”  
She smiled back and nodded, “Yes, it was a lot of fun.”  
Lytham grumbled, “They wouldn’t let me sit on a horse.”  
Othar laughter boomed across the room, “That’s because you wouldn’t fit on these piddly little ponies!”  
Ildrith and Igdan joined Othar’s mirth, and Gimli ducked his head with a gentle chuckle.  
“Oh relax brother-mine,” Said Ildrith, as Lytham continued to scowl. “I’m sure you’ll find plenty to do here besides riding.”  
Lytham snarled and drained his cup. “That is for sure, these bloody elves!” Othar grumbled a warning and Lytham sneered. “Oh shut up Othar, you’re not the one…” He glanced at Ildrith, and shut his mouth with an exasperated sigh.  
Ildrith rolled her eyes, “Oh great, another secret.”  
Othar shook his head, “No, the same secret I’m afraid.”  
Ildrith sighed, “Here I was hoping that their arrival,” she nodded at Igdan, “was the whole thing.”  
Othar grinned, “Nope, though they are a part of it for sure.”  
Gimli wiped the grease from his plate with a chunk of break and said, “I don’ understand why it is such a big secret.” Both her brothers glared at the dwarf and he held his hands up, “Peace, my mouth is shut!”  
Igdan chuckled and scratched his beard, “Don’t worry Lil, I don’t know what’s going on either.”  
“You don’t?” She said, feeling a little less hostile towards her brothers.  
“Not at all, and I wouldn’t waste your breath asking anyone else. Only the elves and these two seem clued in.”  
Ildrith chuckled and turned to Lytham, “To change the subject, brother, where did you say our new clothes came from?”  
Lytham shrugged, “How should I know?”  
“Because of all of us seated here, you are the only one who wears their garb every day.”  
“And that makes me an expert?”  
“Do you know or not?”  
“No, but Alizae does.”  
Othar laughed into his cup, “Oh good, an excuse for you brother.”  
Lytham threw his empty mug at Othar’s head, and the eldest sibling deflected it, sending it crashing into a nearby shrubbery.  
He gestured to the plants, “Stop littering Lytham!”  
Ildrith laughed as he stood in a huff and retrieved the cup.  
“Who is Alizae?” She asked, Lytham had the indecency to blush, and Ildrith gaped. “Now you have to tell me!”  
Lytham played with the cup in his hands. “She is my friend, that’s all. I’ll bring her to your room later Ildrith.” He offered Gimli a small bow, and then stormed off out the hall.  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………  
A few hours later, Ildrith was reading a book on her bed. She had left her doors wide open, and knotted the curtains once more, letting the chilly wind flow through her chambers while she relaxed.  
Everyone seemed to have something to do after breakfast except for Ildrith. So she returned to her chambers and picked up the worn copy of Húrin that Echanar had leant her.  
She almost missed the timid knock when a pretty brunette elf appeared.  
“Oh, come in. You must be Alizae!”  
Ildrith shifted to the edge of her bed and hopped off to greet the elf properly.  
She hovered near the doorway uncertainly, “I am, your brother said you wanted to see me?”  
Ildrith slipped her boots on and rolled her eyes, “And of course neglected to tell you what it was about. I’m so sorry, excuse his manners. I wanted to know where I can find a seamstress.”  
Alizae’s eyes travelled to the ruined hem of her dirty dress and back up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, I believe I can help you. Come, I’ll take you there now.”  
The rest of her day was spent with the seamstresses in a large cavern by the edge of the underground river. Ildrith wondered if it was the same one that passed beneath her room. She told the seamstresses roughly what she wanted, and they tittered over her, taking measurements and offering her samples for much longer than she cared to concentrate for.  
Alizae turned out to be a wonderful companion, though Ildrith didn’t have much of a chance to suss out her brother’s potential suitor. Eventually, the seamstresses released her, and Alizae claimed her arm to drag her from the room, sensing her urgency to escape.  
“One moment,” Cried one of the seamstresses.  
Ildrith paused, and turned slowly back, fixing her smile back in place. “Yes?”  
“Your dresses are ready, for the ceremony!”  
Alizae released her, and Ildrith opened her arms to receive the pile of material that was to be her wardrobe for the entirety of the feast.  
She curtsied, and offered her thanks once more. Alizae grabbed her arm and dragged her away.  
“I’m terribly sorry that took so long, if I’d known how excited they’d be to meet you I would have offered to go without you!”  
Ildrith shook her head, “Not at all, thank you so much for staying with me! I would have been completely lost without you there.”  
“They so rarely have the opportunity to work on new things, I think they feel their talent is wasted mending armour. Besides, you present them with a particularly interesting puzzle, being the only princess they’ve ever dressed.”  
“Princess?”  
Alizae giggled, “I suppose you do not see it that way yet, but that is how we see you. Your brother is the King of your people, after all.”  
Ildrith scrunched her nose, and then sighed, “I guess… So what is this all about?” She shook the bundle in her arms, and got a healthy whiff of silk, satin and velvet.  
Alizae chuckled, “Everyone has a similar wardrobe, don’t fear. During the feast, the only breaks you will get are those when we are reminded that a new day has come. It is easy for us to become so involved in the celebration that we forget to sleep, especially when there are mortals present who really need the frequent breaks. So it became a tradition for us ladies to change outfits once a day, to mark the passage of time for those who are enthralled.”  
Ildrith glanced at her companion and frowned, “Tell me more about this feast, it is beginning to sound more and more like a witches spell, and less like a simple woodland celebration.”  
Alizae laughed, her voice so musical it sounded like bells ringing. “That is an accurate description really. We will move around the Kingdom, in a circle, and everywhere we stop to feast the forest will be renewed. We will sing, and dance and…” Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she danced forward a few steps. “Oh Ildrith, you are going to love it!” She gasped and turned to her new friend, “You must bring those to my room! Oh please Ildrith, will you get ready with me? I would so love to be by your side!”  
Ildrith laughed, and considered her request. She really did find herself liking this graceful whisp of an elf. Her soothing energy was rather a relief. “That sounds perfect Alizae, I am afraid I don’t know much about these sorts of things. I don’t even think I would know how to don half of these, let alone find the people I know amidst all the... merry-making.”  
Alizae made an indelicate squeak and hugged Ildrith briefly, lifting her off her the ground in a gentle reminder that the elf was a lot taller, and stronger than her. Despite her gentle disposition.  
“Oh Ildrith thank you! This is going to be so much fun! Fear not, I will endeavour to stay by your side as much as possible, failing that, I shall find you at least once a day to help you change.”  
For the first time since hearing about it, Ildrith felt a proper spike of excitement and anticipation. She smiled brightly at the elf, and allowed her to lead her in the opposite direction, to deposit her collection of dresses with Alizae’s own.  
Ildrith’s mouth popped open when Alizae opened a single door to reveal her modest chambers. It was alive! Thick vines, and fragrant flowers grew over every surface save her bed, and a small pond was dug into the centre of the room. Ildrith dumped her clothes unceremoniously on the floor behind the door and strode inside.  
“Alizae, this is incredible!”  
The elf tittered, and picked up the pile of dresses. She set about separating the individual pieces and hanging them in her small wardrobe.  
“It is small, but it is home.”  
“No,” Said Ildrith, “It is perfect! Did you grow all these plants yourself?”  
She frowned, “I brought the seedlings inside once, and nurtured them into this state, yes.”  
Ildrith found herself sitting on the bed, and stood up in shame. “Sorry, I was overwhelmed. Wait! Why do you have a bed?”  
Alizae laughed, “To sleep in of course, why do you have a bed?”  
“No, I’m sorry, it’s just, Legolas told me that elves don’t sleep.”  
Alizae frowned. “No, we do sleep. It is however unlike the near death experience you mortals seem to enjoy. We need to switch our minds off, just as you do. The only difference is that we stay semi-conscious while we do it. We can also go for longer without sleep, if we need to.”  
Ildrith considered this. “I guess that explains it.” Alizae smiled politely, not wanting to intrude on Ildrith’s private thoughts. Ildrith smiled, and made her way out of the elf’s chambers, “When we were travelling here, I made a game of trying to wake before Legolas.”  
Alizae giggled, “I am sure you found it a near impossible game!”  
“Yes!” Ildrith laughed, and paused to say goodbye.  
Alizae took her arm once more and started walking with her, “I will come with you if you are not opposed. I wish to visit with your brother Lytham.”  
Ildrith watched her out of the corner of her eye and smiled to herself, “Of course, I don’t mind at all.”


	12. Mereth Nuin Giliath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.  
> Warnings: Adult themes.

After Alizae deposited her safely in her own room, Ildrith flopped onto her bed, exhausted. She realised that the past few hours, for hours only had they been, felt as long as days. It was impossible to think that all of the events that weighed most heavily on her mind had occurred within the last twenty-four hours. She pressed her hands onto her eyes and tried to sort out the disjointed feeling that coloured recent memories. It felt like it had all happened to someone else.  
She soon fell asleep, and woke with a start some time later. Her curtains were still open, but the sun had already set, and a frigid breeze seeped through her room. She shivered and went to close the curtains. A moment she spared to look out onto the forest. The moonlight caught the treetops in a mystical way, lending a silver gleam to the sea of dark shapes. It was the same forest she had looked out on all her life, yet it looked so different here at the heart of it. She took a deep breath and felt her anxiety ebb somewhat as the familiar scent filled her lungs.  
There was something tugging at her senses from behind… Her nose twitched, and she followed the scent to a plate that contained a small honey cake. She grinned, and picked it up, devouring it greedily. Igdan must have come for a visit, and found her asleep, left his gift by her bed. She smiled, and made the decision to find her friend.  
The doors closed silently behind her, and she wandered around until she found a guard. He told her that the Beornings were either camped out on the hill-top above, or just down the hall in the wing closest to their own. She thanked him and made her way towards the inner wing. She knew her friend would prefer to be outside, but would probably have chosen an indoor room just to be closer to the food.  
The corridor where her people slept was warmer than the one where she resided. Most of the doors were wide open, and Beornings lounged in the hallway. They called out in excitement as she appeared, and she spent a few moments exchanging pleasantries with this person and that. Eventually, she looked up and saw Igdan leaning against a doorway watching her.  
He smiled when she saw him and waved her over. Ildrith said a hasty farewell to the lady she was speaking to, and hopped over two more sets of legs belonging to fellow hallway loiterers.  
Ildrith ducked under his arm, into the warm room beyond. It was smaller even than Alizae’s. A little fireplace blazed merrily however, and Ildrith made her way to it and sat down with a sigh.  
“I hoped I would find you here.” She said and glanced up. “Thank you for the cake.”  
She turned back to the fire, and scooted over to make room as he settled beside her.  
“You’re most welcome.” He said, nudging her with his shoulder.  
They stared into the flames for a while, Ildrith warmed her hands before the flames, and Igdan sat with his arms folded around bent knees. Ildrith smiled to herself, happy at last to sit in silence with a close friend, her worries far away.  
“This is nice,” She said, and Igdan chuckled.  
“The fire? Or the thrill of my company?”  
Ildrith nudged him, and he lost his balance, he reached out and tugged on her arm to right himself.  
“You know what I mean!”  
He chuckled, “I do. I’ve missed you.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, there was that seriousness again. It frightened her, she didn’t want her friend to be sincere, but she answered in kind. “I missed you too.”  
Igdan cleared his throat, “So did you need something?”  
“No, I just thought… I wanted…” She peeked up at him, and he was watching her carefully, but there was still much of that mischievous child in the sincere set of those eyes. “I just needed my friend.” She said with a small smile.  
He reached over and draped an arm over her shoulders, “I am right here.”  
She squeezed his hand and sighed, “Like you never left.”  
“Precisely, Lil… You don’t have to go through the whole ‘re-acquaintance’ phase with me. Talk to me, I know when there is something bothering you.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, she wanted so desperately to believe him. She huffed and shrugged his arm away. She crossed her legs tighter and turned to face him. “I want to tell you a story, and I don’t want you to say anything until I am finished. I just need my friend tonight okay? No drama.”  
Igdan nodded, and turned to face her too. “You can tell me anything Lil, you know that.”  
Ildrith raised an eyebrow, “Remember that you said that…”  
They sat by the fire for a long time. Ildrith told him everything she had been afraid to in front of her brother. About being left behind, alone and scared with only Humans to keep her company. The guilt she felt at having to hide away, the guilt that had formed because she knew deep down that that was what she wanted to do. The night the orcs had come, and how she had felt almost relieved for a chance to be brave, as a way to make up for secluding herself.  
She told him what had happened in the forest, and the friendship that had formed between herself and her companions. She even told him about the darkness. The blood-lust. The voices in her head, and what they drove her to do. She told him about waking up in the hospital, what it felt like to know that her family was safe. She told him about her sleepless night, and how all she wanted to do was find her friend. The only thing she left out was Legolas. Those memories were for her alone, and she selfishly clung to them, not ready for the aftermath of such a reveal quite yet. Not even with Igdan.  
For a long time after, he studied her silently. Ildrith held his eyes, and had first a silent conversation. Her senses told her of his hurt, and confusion. She could smell the sharp spike of adrenaline, and saw how he had tensed, ready to come to her defence against enemies that were long gone. The set of his brow told her about his fear, he understood just how complicated the next phase was going to be, even if he didn’t know all the details just yet. His eyes kept her grounded, their hazel depths were the only constant, and all they held was compassion. She knew that at his core, all her friend wanted was for her to be safe. That was how she knew she had truly made the correct decision to trust him with her secrets.  
“Oh Lil.” He breathed eventually, creeping forward to brush her cheek. “What did you do?”  
Ildrith hung her head and bit her trembling lip, her voice wobbled. “I don’t know.”  
Igdan pulled her into a hug, and stroked her hair soothingly. She scrunched her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry. His scent was strong in her nostrils and she breathed in deeply. He smelt like home.  
His free hand stroked her arm, and he pushed her gently back to look down as his fingers bumped the scars on her wrist. She pulled her arm away, and he let her go.  
“You should have trained with me, back when we were kids. Then the blood would never have taken you.”  
Ildrith shrugged, “How could I have known what it would do to me? This was never supposed to happen. I was never supposed to be a fighter.”  
His eyes filled with sympathy and he moved to her side so he could keep an arm around her shoulders.  
“The darkness won’t touch you here Lil, you are safe.”  
“What about tomorrow night? What am I going to do in the forest Ig?”  
“It won’t happen, not with the elves magic so strong around you, and you know what? If it does, then I’ll be right there beside you. You can take a few swats at me to make you feel better. I promise I’ll put up a good fight.”  
She smiled and elbowed him gently, “Be serious.”  
“I am, you aren’t alone any more Lil. We’ll take care of you, promise.”  
She smiled and leant into him, her head rested gently on his chest. She giggled suddenly.  
“When did you grow up?”  
She felt him smile over her head. “Probably when I got caught in my first blizzard. Up in the Mountains. I stayed in the fuzzy form,” she smiled as he used their childhood term for the change, “for far too long, just trying to stay warm. When I came back, I just felt different.”  
“Oh my poor Ig, what did they do to you?”  
He chuckled softly, “They toughened me up I guess. It wasn’t so bad though, I was actually starting to really enjoy myself when… Well I suppose you could say we were drafted. I could have stayed there, but… I wanted to see you again, and I figured you would go wherever your brothers went.”  
Ildrith froze, there was something strange about the way he said that. She felt her hackles raise in a subtle warning. She shook the feeling away and patted his leg.  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Life would have gone a lot smoother if I had been. Though I’m not sure I would have survived seeing you all march off to war. Maybe that’s when the blood-lust would have taken me, and you all would have died trying to protect me.” She felt him scoff, or possibly laugh, and twisted round to glare. “It’s not funny.”  
He smiled and she turned away again. “I’m not trying to belittle your concerns, the blood-lust might very well have taken you then.”  
She frowned, “Then what-”  
“Hush, let me explain. You’ve never changed with another before, so you wouldn’t know this, but when we are together in our other minds, we are linked. If the blood lust had taken you, we would have been there to protect you, to shelter your mind until you were yourself again. No-one would have been hurt in the process.”  
Ildrith bit the inside of her cheek as she considered his words. She was quiet for long, until Igdan shifted beside her and she cleared her throat. “There is much I don’t know.”  
He chuckled and squeezed his arms around her. “Don’t worry, we will show you the way.”  
Ildrith squirmed and sat up, she ran a hand through her hair and bunched it on top of her head as she turned to face him once more. The flames flickered warm orange light over his hooded eyes, and Ildrith bit her lip.  
“I should go.”  
A frown touched his brows, “Why?”  
Ildrith dropped her hands, letting her hair fall about her face like a waterfall of shadows. “You are exhausted, so am I if I’m honest. We are both in need of a good night’s sleep if we are to have any hope of keeping up with the elves tomorrow.”  
Igdan smiled wryly and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t be silly, the magic will probably keep us awake through any sort of sleepy tendencies.”  
“Still…” She wrung her hands in her lap and peeked up at him. Igdan opened his arms and she crawled into them gratefully. His embrace brought tears to her eyes, he felt like home too. Like warm summer nights sneaking out to swim in the lake by the waterfall, like cold winter days huddled by a ramshackle fire somewhere in the woods, like a twilight childhood shrouded in laughter. She sighed happily and pulled away.  
“Thanks for this, I really missed you Ig.”  
He brushed her hair back from her face and offered a crooked smile. “Sleep well Lil.”  
She got slowly to her feet and touched him briefly on the shoulder before padding softly out the door and closing it behind her, leaving him kneeling before the flames.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
She woke slowly, a headache throbbing behind her eyes, midway through the next morning. She half sat-up, thoroughly disoriented, and very thirsty. She plopped from the bed and wobbled over to the wash room unsteadily. She unstopped the corks and flung herself fully clothed into the water.  
The icy temperature woke her fully. She gasped and flailed around for a bit, and then dropped her lips to the water and drank deeply. Once she had filled her stomach, and removed her soaking dress, she washed herself from tip to toe. She ruffled around in her bag, she had a blade somewhere that she kept very sharp to use as a razor. Unlike her brothers, who were content to walk around like woolly mammoths, Ildrith kept herself clean shaven.  
She took extra time to soak her hair in cocoa oil, and brush it until it hung loose about her naked body in dark silky sheets. She wandered over to her cupboard and donned the hospital gown which someone had thoughtfully cleaned and hung back up. She chose it because it was loose fitting, and could be buttoned up around herself as opposed to being pulled over her hair again and again to make it fluffy.  
When she was presentable, she went back into her bedroom, and paused at the sight of a note on her side-table.  
She sat on the bed and opened it into her lap.  
“For tonight” was all it read, in elegant, flowing script. She frowned at the paper and looked over at the dresser. Something silver caught her eye, and she reached over to investigate.  
“Ildrith?” She snatched whatever it was just as Lytham entered her room.  
“Morning brother!”  
He laughed, “Morning? It is past noon sleepy-head!”  
Ildrith cast a glance out the window and hung her head, “So it is. Ugh, why am I so tired?”  
Lytham shrugged and held out his hand for her, “Are you ready to go? Alizae asked after you, apparently you two are getting ready together?”  
Ildrith nodded and held onto Lytham with her right hand, the note and object safely crushed in her left.  
He patted her hand fondly and looked ahead as he said almost inaudibly, “Thank you.”  
Ildrith matched his volume, “For what?”  
He shrugged, “For being nice to Alizae, It means a lot to me.”  
“Of course. But Lytham… What is going on between you two?”  
She expected him to deny it, or shout at her, but instead he shrugged and bit his lip. Ildrith squeezed his hand in support and let the matter go. Soon, they reached Alizae’s room, and he let go of her hand to knock.  
“Come in!” Called the musical voice.  
Ildrith opened the door, and Alizae squealed. “Good, you are here! Come in quickly, we have to get you started.”  
Lytham laughed and waved his goodbyes. Alizae stuck her tongue out at him and kicked the door closed. She turned to Ildrith and began fussing over her.  
“Well, you have beautiful hair at least! Come through and we’ll get you into your first outfit.”  
“We?” Asked Ildrith, Alizae dragged her behind the corner and her question was answered as Loré stood to greet her.  
“Loré!” She smiled, pleased to find both of her new friends present to help settle her nerves.  
Loré bounced over and grabbed her hands to swing her round in greeting. She slipped the note and mysterious object from her hand with a gasp.  
“Oh, what is this now?”  
Ildrith reached over to snatch it back and then sighed in defeat as the nimble elf dodged her advanced easily.  
“I don’t actually know yet.”  
Loré’s eyes twinkled mischievously, and she handed the collection to Alizae. Her eyes grew wide as she looked between Ildrith and the note. She looked over at Loré.  
“Is this?...”  
Loré nodded, her smile stretching even as she bit her bottom lip. Alizae gasped and stretched out her hand to return the items to Ildrith. Ildrith pushed the note aside to look at last on the mysterious object that seemed to cause such distress among her friends.  
It was a petite silver broach. The design was simple, the metal was twisted from the base of the pendant into a three-sided knot whose sides met in the middle to create a seamless circle. Ildrith touched the silver, and felt its sturdy weight, it was pure silver, and very beautiful, but hardly seemed worth the elves’ reactions.  
She looked up, “What is it?”  
Loré trilled, and pointed to the note. “What do you think?”  
Alizae held up a hand. “One moment please, Ildrith, is this from Legolas?”  
She bit her lip, “I think so, though in truth I’ve never seen his writing.”  
Alizae raised an eyebrow, and waited for further information. Ildrith huffed, and looked desperately to Loré for help.  
“You can trust her.” The exciteable elf said calmly.  
Alizae’s mouth popped open as understanding dawned on her, “You and… Legolas?!” She squeaked his name so loud that Ildrith jumped to her side and cupped a hand over her mouth.  
“Shush will you, do you want to get us all killed?”  
Alizae pushed her hand away, “Do you?” She asked seriously.  
Ildrith gaped and covered her face with her hands. “I know, I know. But Alizae, you can’t tell anyone, please, especially not Lytham!”  
Alizae frowned, “Of course not, I know how that conversation would end.” She touched Ildrith’s cheek softly, “Oh child, what have you done?”  
Ildrith gaped, and then bit her lip. “I don’t know.”  
Loré hurried over and chased Alizae’s concern away, “Enough, what is done is done, and if you think about it meldir you will see that this is happy, not sad.”  
Alizae shook her head, “Of course,” her smile brightened as she shook away her bad feelings, “Of course it is Ildrith this is wonderful. But do you know what that means?” She pointed at the pin. Ildrith shook her head. “That is the royal crest.”  
Ildrith stared at the pin, “So everyone will know?”  
Alizae nodded, “Every one of our kind at least, but perhaps not everyone will learn its true significance. Not if you are careful.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, “And he just gave it to me, expecting me to wear it without knowing its meaning?” She frowned and glared at the accused piece of jewellery.  
Loré’s eyes softened, “I don’t think he meant it to harm you, quite the opposite in fact. Your kind, and indeed few who are not our kind, have ever attended our feasts. I can only guess that he wishes to protect you. No one really knows how the magic will affect your kind, as you are so closely bound to the earth, as are we. Perhaps he is hoping that if someone sees you in distress, they will rush to your aid even if only to please their king. The symbol is one of protection, not possession.”  
Ildrith frowned, “Be that as it may, he has put me in quite a precarious situation. If I accept, my brothers will see. Igdan will see. They will demand answers that I simply do not have right now. As for the king… And the rest of your kind…” She felt her stomach knot and her knees buckled.  
Alizae smiled sympathetically, she took the pin gently from Ildrith and placed it on her bed. “Come now, we must get you ready, you can think about it later.”  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
The first outfit had Ildrith clutching her hospital gown tight and backing into a corner.  
“No ways, uh-uh get it away. I can’t wear that!”  
Loré scowled and chased Ildrith about, Alizae sighed gently.  
“It is as I told you Ildrith, everyone will be dressed this way.”  
Ildrith dodged Loré’s insanely deft fingers, and called out, “Well let’s see yours then!”  
Alizae huffed and chucked the dress on her bed. She disappeared for the smallest amount of time possible in a change room, and when she came out Ildrith gasped. She made her way over in a daze to ogle at Alizae’s get-up.  
“See,” Alizae said gesturing to herself. “Yours is much the same.”  
Her creamy skin stood out beneath her dress, which was form fitting and forest green. The neck line plunged in a deep V-shape to her naval, ending at a twisted gold belt. The skirt flared out from her hips to the floor, and her back was bare but for the straps that criss-crossed from one side to the next, down to the belt.  
Ildrith touched the fabric with awe, and twisted her face in regret. “I could never look as good as you.”  
Loré touched her arm, “Ildrith don’t be absurd you are beautiful. Now come, stop being difficult and put your dress on!”  
Ildrith took one more look at Alizae and sighed in resignation. “Fine, but you’ll never get me looking like that.”  
Loré grabbed her hand and dragged her to the bed. Ildrith felt self-conscious stripping in front of the elves, and kept her back to them as she first lifted the volumous skirt over her hips from beneath the hospital gown. The deep, burgundy-wine colour skirt settled neatly above her belly-button, and she sighed and pulled the hospital gown’s strings loose to slide the garment off her shoulders, making double-sure to hug it against her bare chest while she fiddled with the top of the dress. It was the same colour and soft fabric as the skirt, the straps were thin and ended with a sweet-heart neckline. The top ended shortly below the curve of her breasts, leaving a five centimetre gap of skin before the skirt began.  
Alizae tightened the straps for her, and pulled the hospital gown that she was clinging to away. Loré gasped and clapped her hands.  
“See Ildrith! You are stunning!”  
Ildrith squirmed, and smoothed the front of the skirt down. Her hand rested on the skin of her stomach, and she gasped.  
“No ways, I can’t wear this.”  
“What are you on about now?”  
Ildrith blushed and covered her side. “I just can’t, alright.”  
Alizae touched her hands gently, “Look,” She said, and Ildrith grimaced, but looked where the elf was pointing. She too had a jagged scar across her stomach. Ildrith gasped and touched it unthinkingly.  
“Oh Alizae what happened?”  
She shrugged, “Orc, or spider. It’s hard to keep track of old injuries. Ildrith, many of us will be showing off our battle scars. If anyone even notices yours, it will be to praise you for your bravery.”  
“Believe me,” Said Loré, “Before the sun even sets, half the kingdom will be too far gone to notice something as trivial as a scar.”  
Ildrith frowned, and turned away from them. She brushed her hands over the scar on her arm where it had broken, and over her wrist where she had cut herself. She sat on the bed and covered her wrist.  
“This wasn’t won in battle.” She said softly, and Loré sat down beside her.  
She covered Ildrith’s hands with her own. “Yes it was. Not all battles are fought against an enemy we can see.”  
Ildrith looked up, into her bright green eyes, and nodded sadly. “Alright, but you two better not abandon me.”  
Loré giggled, “As if we’ll have a choice! Once the prince sees you, our watch will be over!”  
Alizae laughed, and shooed Loré away. “You may as well get dressed too now!”  
Alizae settled onto the bed behind Ildrith and started fussing with her hair. She darted too and fro, wrestled leaves off the plants around her room. She wrung them into a circlet which she settled into Ildrith’s hair, she had tied the thick black tresses half up, letting the rest of her long hair fall free down her back.  
“There, all done, we shall paint our faces a little later.”  
Ildrith scrunched up her nose as she tried to figure children’s face-paint into the elegant equation. Loré danced into the room at that moment, and Ildrith gasped.  
She wasn’t wearing a dress at all! Her bottom half was covered with low riding black culottes. Her top half was covered only partly by a hooded, bell sleeved top that was cropped short just above her naval, and the top garment was completely see-through. Her breasts were covered at least by a modest crop top the same pale lavender as the see-through top. Jewellery jingled about her hips as she danced into the room.  
“You like?” She asked daringly, and Alizae burst into laughter.  
Ildrith stared between them in shock. Loré laughed at Ildrith’s expression and Alizae explained.  
“Every year she sends for a daring costume from her contacts around the land. This would be from…. Rhûn?”  
Loré nodded, “Very good Alizae.”  
Ildrith stared blankly, and Loré took pity on her. “Oh, you sweet summer child. This is going to be an eye opening festival for you indeed. We Silvan elves aren’t as tame as our Eastern brethren I’m afraid. I promise I will look after you though, at least until our prince claims you.”  
Alizae touched her cheek fondly. “Worry not, you will be fine. The feast it only as wild as you want it to be, there are plenty of us who simply move around where the food goes and have a quiet, starlit dinner each night.”  
Loré scrunched up her delicate features and flicked her hand in the air dismissively, “Boring people! No, this year you will join us Alizae, or do you think your Lytham will sit quietly back and let the feast pass him by? Do not worry so much, I’ll make sure you are both safe, but also well entertained.”  
“Come Ildrith, let me paint your face.” Alizae said, with a stern look in Loré’s general direction.  
Ildrith pursed her lips, but consented. It turned out that what Alizae meant was a far cry from the garish face-painting that human children sometimes set up at festivals back home. Ildrith was relieved to find Alizae only touched her eye-lashes with something black, and drew lines around her eye-lids to darken and accentuate the contours of her eyes. She touched a brush with black powder across her closed eyes, and then brushed them again with a similar, silver powder. Her lips she did last, staining their natural ruby hue darker with some strangely strawberry tasting liquid. She bid Ildrith sit still, and then Alizae and Loré helped each other in turn. Their colours were different to hers, but Ildrith thought they both looked quite elegant when they were finished, which gave her hope that she did not resemble a court jester herself.  
At last Alizae told her she could move, and the first thing she did was touch her lips to see if the red came off when she wiped at it.  
Loré smiled, “Worried about staining something?”  
Alizae giggled and added with a cheeky wink, “Or someone?”  
Ildrith blushed and dropped her hands to her lap. She was holding the little silver pin, playing with the idea of hiding it somewhere on her person so she could decide later what to do with it. Her only concern was that someone would see, and tell her brothers.  
She voiced her concerns aloud, and Alizae hushed her. “No-one would dream of it. It is in truth nobody else’s business. People may talk among themselves, if they notice, but they would never report it to your brothers.”  
Ildrith bit her lip, it was a risky business for sure. She closed her eyes, and then deftly pinned the broach above her heart.  
She opened her eyes and smiled, “Well, here goes nothing.”  
Alizae held out both her hands, and formed a triangle with the other two. They squeezed each other’s fingers in comfort, and Loré glanced out the window at the setting sun.  
“It is time.”  
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
They started in the Great Hall, where a kaleidoscope of elves and Beornings had gathered in numbers greater than Ildrith had ever seen. Loré clung to her hand, and Alizae was never far behind as they dragged her through the crowd towards the middle of the room where they could see the throne across a perilous gap in the floor where water flowed some distance below. To Ildrith’s eyes, nothing was different apart from people’s attire.  
The hall was crowded, but apparently unchanged from any other night. She couldn’t see her brothers or Igdan, and the area around the throne was devoid of royalty.  
The elves wore daring attire that clung to their forms and shifted as they moved. If Ildrith blurred her eyes they looked together like a sea at sunset, with as many colours as the tide. The Beornings to her shock were adorned as if for war. Most were dressed in their barest shifts, the men only wearing a simple leather jerkin over faded brown trousers, if they covered their tops at all. All of them were barefoot like herself. The woman too were dressed as if the change could come at any moment, crop tops of cotton and shorts or skirts that could easily be ripped off and stored for phasing. Loré watched her expression and laughed.  
“See,” She said, “even your kin are embracing the nature of our festivities.”  
Ildrith bit her lip and nodded, “I am overdressed.”  
Loré squeezed her fingers and tugged her, and Alizae in tow. “Come on, we are going to miss the start of it here!”  
Ildrith let her drag them through the crowd and out the other side, they were amidst the throng of people heading towards the main entrance to the citadel. As they passed through the main gates, Ildrith felt a shimmer, like stepping through an invisible curtain of water. Immediately music could be heard all around, the source of which was intangible.  
Ildrith glanced around, a few eyes drifted over to her, but they were not unkind. When she met the curious stares of the elves, they smiled and waved, or called out in greeting. Ildrith tried to smile back, she took several deep calming breaths, and ended up with a head rush as well as a thumping heart and dry mouth. Loré squeezed her hand suddenly, and Ildrith looked ahead. In the middle of the impromptu clearing, the elven king and his closest subjects and advisors had emerged from the crowd.  
The king was resplendent in his formal woodland garb, his crown was that of autumn. Twisted holly branches and red berries made up the arms that stretched for the ceiling above his golden hair. Ildrith tried to linger on him longer, to make out the intricacies of his outfit, but her eyes allowed her no more time than to tell her the king’s tunic was rich orange like oak leaves in autumn.  
Her eyes flickered over the rest of the court, and rested on her prince, who was dressed so differently to his kin, but looked every bit as impressive as his father. His tunic was light blue and white like a winter’s sky. His long hair hung loose about his face, apart from two thin braids that held part of his hair back over his pointed ears. He too wore a crown, but his was silver, and formed a teardrop across his forehead. His features were blank, but his eyes disobeyed their stoic commands and flickered over the sea of faces. They found her easily enough, and Ildrith felt her heart stutter and her gut clench as the smallest smile brushed his lips before he looked away again.  
Legolas walked over to join his father by an unlit brazier. Somewhere behind Ildrith, elves began to sing. Their voices carried throughout and idle conversation came to a halt as all eyes turned towards the king. He surveyed the crowd for a time, listening serenely to the acapella symphony as it rose in pitch and volume, several of the elves in the crowd joined in. With a subtle flick of his hand, the king lit a yellow flame in the brazier. As the flames sprung to life he kept his head slightly bowed, but lifted his eyes towards the canopy and stretched his arms out to the side. As his hands opened out like the wings of a dove, a rumble started above. Ildrith looked up, and gasped. The trees were swaying, as though caught in a dreamy breeze.  
Bright lights, small as a fingernail had appeared among the leaves, and descended softly, like falling snow. Ildrith held out a hand and caught one on her palm. It was alive, and tickled as it walked to and fro. She brought her hand closer for inspection and found it to be a small winged creature, a beetle of sorts with its bum glowing fiercely. She giggled, and turned to show Loré, but it leapt back into the air to re-join its kin.  
She swivelled in an astonished circle. The elves had started to run, in a great flood they streamed past her and raced off into the trees. Some of her kin had phased and their great shaggy forms loped alongside the elves as they made off. She felt a tug on her arm, and when she met Alizae’s eyes, saw a crazed sort of energy lighting them from within.  
Ildrith grinned and motioned for her to lead. Loré was long gone, but Alizae held onto her hand as they raced together with the elves deeper into the forest. Somewhere there were drums beating, and the further they got from the city, the wilder their companions became. Eventually, they came to a point where groups had slowed to a stop.  
Small clusters of elves and Beornings alike were even dancing, the bears on their haunches bobbing along to the beat of the drums. Several elves held hands and cast spells to light fires, and out of nowhere, great tables heavy laden with treats and drink appeared here and there.  
She hadn’t noticed when, but they were walking calmly side by side now, and Alizae patted her arm reassuringly. Ildrith’s breathing was heavy and harsh, but naturally the elf seemed un-phased by their mad dash through the trees. She was content to let her lead them wherever, entranced as she was by the celebrations breaking out around them.  
They soon came upon a well-lit area where small white petals carpeted the floor, and the air-bound lullaby changed to a sweet hum befitting the more relaxed atmosphere. All about there were tables and small benches where elves and Beornings of a more dignified aura lazed about gently sipping wine and eating delicate morsels. Ildrith stepped lightly, and helped herself almost without thinking to a mini honey-cake. Her eyes drifted across the table and she locked gazes with the elven king.  
She remembered her manners enough to hide her surprise, and dipped her head. “Your majesty.”  
She raised her eyes and the king lowered his gaze in regal reply. He held her immobile with his intense stare for a long while, and then picked up a silver chalice and sauntered around the edge of the table to stand before her and Alizae.  
“I trust you are finding our celebrations to your liking?” He asked softly, ignoring Alizae completely.  
Ildrith ducked her head, “Very much so. It is overwhelming, but I look forward to all that is to come.”  
“Indeed, but take care that you do not become so entranced as to lose yourself and forget who you are.” He glared at her, his warning not so subtle as to leave her guessing, and then moved away only for Legolas to take his place.  
Ildrith stared after the king, a cold fist clenched in her gut, and then noticed the prince.  
“Legolas!”  
He smirked crookedly, and held out his hand. Ildrith placed her fingers in his grip and he bowed to touch his lips briefly to her hand. “Milady.”  
Ildrith longed to hold onto his cool hand, but instead allowed her fingers to drop lamely to her side as he repeated the gesture with Alizae, who laughed.  
“Why so formal this year my prince?”  
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Said Legolas with a small smile.  
“Of course, perhaps in years past I have simply been mistaken and found your absence as a result of the wine.”  
“Perhaps…”  
Ildrith frowned, “Why would you miss all this? It’s amazing.”  
Legolas smiled warmly and looked about. “Perhaps all it takes is a fresh perspective.” Alizae twitched beside her, and she could feel the curiosity burning in her new friend.  
She looked about, “Where is Gimli?”  
Legolas looked behind him. “Somewhere back there, he partakes not in the wine and could possibly be found near your own kin where the mead and ale flow freely.” Ildrith rolled her eyes and Alizae chuckled. “Shall I escort you there?” Legolas asked.  
Alizae smiled, “That would be most kind.”  
Ildrith chewed her lip, it was one thing for herself and Legolas to risk gossip and speculation. It was another entirely to think of her brother becoming the source of scrutiny among the people. She needn’t have worried however, soon they left the serenely lit banquet and stepped through an invisible sound barrier into a rowdy tavern in the forest. Ildrith gasped as the music suddenly became loud and raucous, blending perfectly with the laughter and merriment.  
Beornings and elves stomped their feet and clunked their overfull pitchers together. She spotted both her brothers shoulder to shoulder with three elves, clutching each other and singing at the top of their voices while swaying about in an uncoordinated jig atop a faded wooden table. She realised that she had been left behind when Alizae turned to her from a few meters away and beckoned her forth. Legolas was over by the table, chatting animatedly with Gimli. She glanced at her feet uncertainly, and then lifted her skirt so as to keep it clean, and walked to Alizae’s side. Her friend guided her to Gimli, and Ildrith submitted to being jostled about by the near-inebriated crowd as they greeted her in their unruly way.  
Lytham spotted them and interrupted the song to cheer loudly and leap off the table. He nearly knocked them flying as he barrelled down to their sides and lifted his sister with one hand to sit on his shoulder. Ildrith shrieked and laughed, clinging to his hair as she had when she was a child. Lytham re-joined the song; dancing around and jostling Ildrith as she added her laughter to the fray. When Othar noticed them, himself and the elves helped Lytham back up to the table-top where he swayed dangerously before securing his foothold and taking up the dance.  
Ildrith spread her arms out fearlessly, and looked all around at the celebrations breaking out in the forest. From her height she could see every section of the feast, each imbued with a different hue of colour and spotted with a Beorning or two for every hundred or so elves. It made her smile to see her people mingling so freely, even though the majority of them were in this section causing chaos as only they knew how.  
She looked down, beaming from ear to ear and saw Legolas smiling as he watched her. Alizae was laughing with Gimli, and surprisingly, Igdan was singing jauntily with three elves, making his way with an armful of drinks.  
He looked up and saw her. “Ildrith!” He boomed so loudly that the singing stumbled to a halt around him. He redoubled his pace, and the startled elves he had silenced laughed merrily and took up the tune once more.  
Igdan leaped onto the table and tapped Lytham on the shoulder before helping her down and hugging her fiercely. Ildrith gasped as cold beer sloshed down her front, and pulled away to smack Igdan fondly. He responded with a booming laugh and distributed the drinks to the lot on the table. Ildrith shook her head and backed away when he handed one to her.  
“Come on Lil, you are old enough to drink with us now!”  
Othar reached over and patted her shoulder, “He’s right little sis, this is a time for joy and celebration! Come, join your brothers for a drink!”  
Ildrith accepted the pitcher with a fair amount of trepidation, and looked to Lytham for comfort. He touched her shoulder and whispered over the fray, “Only if you want to.”  
Ildrith glanced around, and saw everyone’s eyes trained on her, their own drinks poised, ready to follow her lead. She shrugged, wanting nothing more than to join the celebrations. She spread her lips in a defiant grin and hoisted her drink above her head.  
“Bottoms-up!”  
The crowd cheered, and Ildrith threw back her head and drank deeply from the dark wooden cup. It was mead, the sour honey drink that she had smelt on the breath of drunkards all her life. Tonight however, it tasted like liquid gold. She drained the mug, and held it upside down for all to see. The crowd cheered, and Igdan picked her up and twirled her around.  
She squealed and slapped his back. “Put me down Ig, I’m gonna puke!”  
He relented and held onto her waist as she found her feet and giggled madly. She looked into her friends face and laughed, “You sir, are drunk!”  
He smiled giddily, “Only a smidge my flower, tis still wee into the hours of the morning.”  
Ildrith raised an eyebrow, “Its night time Ig… Come one, help me down before we break our necks.”  
When their feet touched solid ground again, Ildrith found herself surrounded by familiar faces. Gimli slapped her back and laughed loudly, “By gaw lass you drink like a dwarf!”  
Ildrith chuckled, “Nay sir, I am certain I could never hope to match your skill.”  
“Surely you must join us tonight, lay yer wage against a game of drink!”  
“A drinking game?”  
“Aye!” Shouted Gimli and a few other voices.  
Ildrith laughed and shook her head, she looked up into her favourite stormy grey-blue eyes which crinkled around the edges in a smile. “A wise choice if I may say so milady.”  
Ildrith smirked and bowed her head. “What about yourself, do you partake in these ‘games of drink’?”  
He chuckled, “Once, yes, I believe I did.”  
She raised her eyebrows, “Really?” He nodded. “How did you fare?”  
Gimli answered, “He lost of course, can’t hold his liquor this one.”  
Legolas shrugged and Ildrith laughed, “I don’t believe you!”  
“Tis the truth! Watch and see, Threlle laddie bring us another!” He called behind himself to a sandy haired elf standing by the kegs.  
Legolas shook his head, “Gimli, it is too early yet to waste the day under a tree, for that is again where you shall find yourself.”  
Igdan burst out laughing, “It seems, master dwarf, that we need to become better acquainted!”  
Ildrith turned to her friend, astonished, “Since when do you drink so much?” she asked.  
Igdan laughed and tugged a lock of her hair. “Since your brothers dragged me off to battle, of course!”  
Legolas looked between Ildrith and Igdan, he cleared his throat. “I don’t believe we have met, I am Legolas.”  
Igdan set a steady gaze on the prince, and Ildrith felt a slight hackle raise on her neck, for a terrifying moment she thought he would ignore him.  
Then he thrust a hand forward, “Igdan, it is an honour to meet you at last Legolas Greenleaf.”  
Ildrith closed her eyes in relief, and watched the two exchange further pleasantries like two wolves circling each other. She wanted to smack Igdan, it was unlike him to become so ‘alpha male’, and she wondered exactly what her brothers had been telling him.  
Gimli accepted a fresh mug of ale from the sandy haired Threlle, and pushed a wooden mug of mead into Ildrith’s hands.  
She accepted without thought, and watched Legolas carefully as Gimli asked. “How do you know Ildrith laddie, you are surely not another brother?”  
Igdan laughed, “Nay sir, Ildrith and I grew up together. We were best of friends from the day we hatched.”  
Ildrith grinned, and turned away from Legolas who listened with only polite impassion. Gimli nodded, “Aye, I bet you could tell us some stories?” He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously and Ildrith smacked him playfully.  
She glared at Igdan, “Don’t you dare say another word or I swear I’ll tip this on your head!” She waved her drink dangerously, and Igdan made a show of cowering behind Gimli.  
He laughed and took a sip of his own drink, “Aye, I could tell you a story or two… What shall I say Lil? Bluefrost Creek or Mr Hamish’s pumpkins?”  
Ildrith’s eyes grew huge and she gaped. “You shall hold your tongue you scoundrel and tell neither!” Igdan grinned wildly and dodged her swatting hand expertly.  
Gimli touched Ildrith lightly on her arm and quelled her violence, “Be still you, come now it’s only fair, you are the one who brought yer childhood friend to the party.”  
She scoffed, “I brought him? Don’t blame me for that!”  
Igdan clutched his heart dramatically and pretended to swoon. “How you wound me! For that I shall tell of the creek!”  
Ildrith gaped, “It’s not fair! Ig, If you tell that story and I’ll tell them about the hornets’ nest!”  
Igdan’s eyes grew large, “You wouldn’t dare!”  
“Try me.” She threatened.  
Legolas intervened, “How about we make a trade, you tell the story of the Bluefrost creek and Gimli and I shall tell you about her sleeping curse.”  
Ildrith gaped, “How is that fair?!”  
Igdan held a pensive finger to his chin and then snapped his fingers, “Deal!”  
“No deal!” Shouted Ildrith, but it was too late.  
Igdan started his tale, and Ildrith pouted. “It was the middle of summer, so we naturally decided to go for a swim in Bluefrost creek, which is of course forbidden. Now what we didn’t know, being twelve at the time, was that this creek was forbidden for a very specific reason. That being the hallucinogenic jellyfish that brave its waters. This little one here, decided she would lead us all to victory, and of course climbed the highest overhanging tree she could find and jumped right into the middle of the river. She was in there for a grand total of six seconds before she started howling like a dying man and thrashing her way towards the shore.  
“Naturally she was stung by, not one, but three of the bastards. Great welts appeared on her calves and one on her neck.” He paused for the obligatory moans of empathetic pain from the gathering crowd, which now included both her brothers and Alizae. Ildrith slurped her mead grumpily while Igdan continued. “I didn’t know what to do, she sounded like she was in so much pain, getting in trouble was the least of my worries. So I draped her arm over my shoulders and half carried her as fast as I could back to the village. Her breathing was so loud, and strained, truly I thought her time was up. It sounded like she was going to be sick closer to town, so I let her fall to her knees and she sat there heaving like a beast.”  
“That was when we came across them,” Othar chimed in and Ildrith cringed, the memories fresh. “Oh we were furious! Until Igdan told us what had happened.”  
“You see,” Igdan continued, “the sting of the jelly fish is not actually painful… What this poor delicate flower was experiencing, was a hallucination.”  
Lytham burst out laughing, and wheezing away, continued to tell the story, “So as we relax and break the news to poor Igdan, Ildrith gets to her feet, like a zombie or something. Her breathing was all intense and scary, she was baring her teeth like fangs, and when she saw us she roared and started running about on all fours.” He dissolved into laughter and Ildrith cringed and took a deep sip of her mead.  
Everyone looked at her in astonishment, so she sighed and finished the tale herself. “I thought I had phased. I thought I was a bear, and for three days, I ran around the village like a bloody fool before the poison wore off.”  
Igdan, Othar, Gimli and Lytham roared into laughter, even Alizae chuckled delicately. Ildrith cringed into her mug, and risked peeking a look at Legolas. He was biting his lip and looking at the ground. Ildrith elbowed him.  
“You look like you are going to pop, just laugh already.”  
He breathed deeply, and with great effort smoothed out his features and looked back up. “It’s not all that funny, really.”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes and scrunched up her face, and crinkled her hands into claws and started growling and kicking at the ground. Igdan looked up and the rest stared at her in a moment of disbelieving silence, then the whole group descended into laughter, Legolas included. Ildrith chuckled, happy to see the elf so completely relaxed. She downed the rest of her drink in an attempt to dull the embarrassment. While they were all oblivious, she snuck away and secured more drinks.  
When Igdan and the rest sobered up some, Ildrith returned with drinks for all. Igdan smiled and offered her an apologetic smile. Ildrith shrugged and walked up as if to touch his arm fondly. Then quick as a cat she leapt in the air and upended her drink on his head. He gasped in shock and jumped back. Everyone stared at her for a moment, and then Igdan dropped his drink and leapt at her.  
“That’s it, come here little devil!” Ildrith squealed and ducked under Gimli’s arm, she dove behind Lytham and grabbed his arms, keeping him between herself and Igdan who kept his hands up, ready to dart out and seize her at a moment’s notice.  
“Gah Ildrith, behave yourself!” Said Lytham, struggling to keep his drink from sloshing onto the floor.  
“He started it!” Shouted Ildrith breathlessly and she swung him round to keep herself from capture.  
“Did not!” Shouted Igdan in protest.  
“Yes you did!” She squeaked.  
“Excuse me, but who just had mead dumped on their head?”  
“Yes, well I warned you about what would happen if you told that - gasp - story!” She squeaked the last word as Igdan caught hold of her arm and swung her out from under her brother’s protection. She squealed and struggled to get away, but he was so much stronger than her, and swung her round, trapping her against his body. He proceeded to tickle her ribs and stomach, making her scream and kick and laugh all at once.  
“Enough!” Boomed Othar, and Igdan dropped her. She scrambled breathlessly to her feet and they stood side by side like children awaiting punishment. “You got him back Ildrith, and Igdan she did warn you. Now stop it, you two are spilling good drink!”  
“Hear hear!” Said Gimli, and Ildrith turned to smile sheepishly in his direction.  
She caught Legolas’s eye, and paused as she realised his knuckles were white around the handle of the mug he grasped. His nostrils were flared and he was staring at Igdan through hooded eyes. Ildrith’s smile vanished and she gulped. No one else seemed to notice his near murderous gaze, so she hurried quickly to the elf’s side and touched his hand lightly.  
He looked down at her, there was no smile to lighten his gaze.  
“What is it?” She whispered, “What is wrong?”  
He stared at her for a long while, and Ildrith searched his eyes. Eventually he loosened his hands on the mug.  
“There is nothing wrong, after all how can I expect any different?” He said, his voice cold.  
Ildrith shivered involuntarily and took a step back, “What does that mean?”  
“It means that you should continue to ignore me, for there is no other way.” With that he turned away from her and walked back the way they had come, to the tranquil area where the elves sipped wine and lounged among the petals.  
Ildrith stared after him, mouth agape. She jumped when something touched her elbow, and grit her teeth to see Igdan standing beside her.  
He too watched the prince retreating, there was a dangerous light in his eyes that set her teeth on edge. “Oh dear,” drawled Igdan sarcastically, “was it something I said?”  
She turned to her friend, a lashing on the tip of her tongue. She paused as realisation dawned. She couldn’t shout at Igdan for being cheeky, after all, Legolas was simply an elf she had met and travelled with that one time. She crumpled down inside her own mind, whimpering at the injustice of it all, and then squared her shoulders.  
“Don’t be rude, he is a prince. He’s probably going to do princely things, you know.” She said it lightly, tugging on his arm and laughing it off.  
Alizae met her eye, and mouthed something of concern, Ildrith looked away and shrugged. She couldn’t afford even a moment of pity. Igdan luckily was tipsy enough that he put the whole incident out of his mind quickly enough and went back to join her brothers in their jaunty singing. Ildrith sat down next to Gimli where he was debating furiously with a group of four elves and a Beorning. She pretended to listen intently as they discussed the war in different parts of the world. Ordinarily she would have been quite interested, right at that moment she was content to sit and sulk, and drink.


	13. Soliloquy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Terribly sorry this took so long, I have been on night duty for a while and it messed up my sleep cycle so badly that I just haven't had time to write. Thanks for sticking with me, it makes me feel very special to see how many people appreciate my work. I hope this makes up for the extended absence.  
> Warnings: Mild profanity (blasphemy), mentions of drinking, adult themes  
> Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.

Ildrith kept up a steady flow of mead as mug after mug was deposited in front of her. She wasn’t depressed exactly, she simply felt stuck and didn’t really notice how much she was drinking. Every instinct in her body told her that she should race after Legolas, traditions and taboo be damned. Reason kept her in place however, if she went after him, what could she do? Neither of them was ready to face the judgement of their races. Neither of them knew in truth what would happen if they were seen together. Othar’s reaction kept playing through her mind, and they hadn’t even been together then.  
She was caught in an impasse, between what she wanted, and what she knew she should do. So after her third mug, she turned in her seat to watch the dancing. Twisting on the seat made the world spin for a moment, and she barely registered it when Igdan pulled her to her feet.  
“Feeling alright flower?”  
For some unknown reason this made Ildrith laugh uncontrollably, and in laughing, she fell into Igdan’s arms. He propped her back upright and she grinned. “Terribly sorry…”  
The world stopped spinning, but it seemed to her that the air had a luminous quality, as if everything was brighter and sharper while being soft around the edges. Igdan’s face too seemed lit by some hidden light, and she touched his cheek in wonder.  
“You’re glowing Ig.”  
He touched her hand, holding it in place and smiled, “Come Lil, dance with me.”  
Ildrith let him pull her away from the tables, and held both her hands as they began to stamp their feet and move to the beat of the ever present drums. Suddenly Ildrith found herself being spun around as Alizae latched onto her hand and twirled her in a circle. For a moment the beautiful elf was her whole world, and she grinned giddily until Alizae let her go and she spun on her own, arms outstretched.  
Lytham leapt from the table where the siblings still danced to their own tune, and claimed Alizae for himself. They stood as a foursome for a moment, eyes glowing and chests heaving from all the excitement. Ildrith laughed, recognising the look her brother was giving her as one from festivals back home. She shrugged and made a dramatic gesture for him to lead the way, Igdan caught on, and on unspoken cue began to dance the Saltarello.  
Alizae trilled giddily, and seemed to naturally know where to put her feet. The music appeared to know what they were doing, and adapted accordingly. Before long they had attracted quite a crowd, and more couples joined the fray. Ildrith struggled at first to remember the twists and turns involved in the surprisingly intricate dance, but with Igdan as her familiar partner, she soon fell into the rhythm. Alizae’s elegance outshone even the other elven couples who joined in, and it made Ildrith feel really happy to see the way her brother smiled as they came together in perfect synchronisation. The music grew faster and faster, and Ildrith felt her feet flying with the drums, until she collapsed against Igdan with a laugh.  
He grasped her waist and hoisted her into the air, Ildrith squealed, and then threw her head back letting her hair cascade down of its own accord, she felt free and alive. As Igdan put her down, his eyes were bright with excitement. Ildrith’s chest heaved as she controlled her laboured breathing. As usual her friend had found a way to pull her from her dark thoughts, and make her see the clearest path, this time without any words at all. She placed her hands on his cheeks, brought his head down and stood on tip toes to smack a kiss on his forehead.  
She wanted nothing more than to fetch Legolas so that he could feel this way too.  
“Thanks Ig!” She reached up and ruffled his hair, then turned and raced away in the direction Legolas had gone.  
Igdan watched her go with a slightly crooked smile, as she disappeared into the trees he shrugged and turned back to the dancing. She would come back eventually, she always did.  
As she passed through the barrier between the zones, Ildrith felt the rush of cold air acutely. Suddenly aware of her tattered appearance, covered in leaves and a fine layer of sweat she stood out like a sore thumb. Her heavy breathing, and hectic movements seemed too loud in this serene place. She brushed off the awkward feelings, and moved quickly through the crowd, looking for her prince.  
At last she saw him, lounging against a tumble of cushions at the base of an oak tree. She beamed, and lifted her skirt so her muddy feet could move faster and close the distance between them. She came to an abrupt halt as someone grabbed the top of her arm and pulled her back.  
“Hey!” She cried out in surprise as the air huffed from her lungs.  
Brushing the hair from her face, she swung round to protest. Her mouth ran dry as the words melted from her lips, it was Thranduil holding her so tight. Still, he was being overly dramatic about something, the set of his jaw told her that much at least, so her frown remained in place. She glared at him curiously, looking between his cool blue eyes and the fingers that formed a vice on her upper arm. The king waited until she was focused on him alone, and looked pointedly behind her. Ildrith’s quizzical expression remained for a moment, and then she followed his gaze.  
Legolas held a silver chalice in one hand, and with his other he propped himself up, so he was facing another elf whom Ildrith had failed to notice. As she looked, the elf maiden reached a hand to touch her prince’s face, an intimate gesture that Legolas seemed not to shy away from. The flaxen haired elf maiden leant forward, her head pressed dangerously close to his. Ildrith held her breath, it was like running into a field to find flames already blazing through the crops, too late to stop but hypnotising to watch. She tipped his chin up, and laid her perfectly rosy lips against his own.  
Ildrith felt a cold sweat break out on her spine, and her gut clenched painfully even before her mind caught up with what she had just witnessed. She stared at them, at the way her fingers stroked his jawline lovingly, the way their lips met and moulded together.  
She barely noticed the king release her arm, but she felt his cool breath as he whispered in her ear. “It is better this way.”  
His words echoed, and then disappeared with him as she stood in silence for an eternity. Legolas broke the kiss and stared at the elf maiden, then he turned to Ildrith, his slow movements amplified until he met her eyes. All at once sound and colour returned to the world and Ildrith stumbled back, clutching her heart. She saw him get to his feet, so she pushed herself away from the table and started to run.  
She didn’t care where she went, she only knew she had to get away from him. For the first time, there was no small part of her secretly wishing that he would catch her. She sprinted blindly, pushing Beorning, elf and tree aside as she went. She ran away from the festival, back into the kingdom, and through all the halls. There were people everywhere, the festivities continued unbroken inside as well as out, and she cried out in frustration as she failed to find a place to be alone. Eventually she found herself at the base of the stairs that lead to the roof. The stairs were alive with the pretty fireflies, but she barely noticed as she stumbled to the top.  
The party was in full swing out here too. Thankfully however, as she neared the stables, she noticed the music fading away, until she collapsed behind one of the outside stalls in silence. She was already crying, but her tears fell freely now. Her heart was so sore, and she clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. Her fingers closed over the little silver broach.  
She hiccupped and her sobbing eased somewhat. She pulled the pin from her chest and stared at it in her palm. The accursed jewellery was somehow all to blame. Of course it was, she should never have accepted the silly thing, and she should never have been fooled by it into thinking that she meant anything to him at all. She should have known better. Her teeth ground together, and she scrunched her eyes shut tight and stood, preparing to chuck the broach far into the trees.  
Something stilled her hand. She knew in her heart of hearts that it wasn’t the pins fault - it wasn’t his fault. After all, why should he ever love her? Why should he even give her a second glance? She should have known better than to get swept away in some fantasy where dreams come true and the dreamy prince falls for the damsel in distress. Saying it to herself like that, for the first time she saw exactly what it must look like from the outside. What a fool she felt as she buried her face in her hands and sunk back against the wooden wall to weep into her knees.  
If she hadn’t been messing around with Igdan like a child, perhaps he wouldn’t have felt the need to seek company with his own people. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been pushed out of their fantasy quite so soon. She hated herself for being so immature, for being naive and most of all for believing that any of it was real to begin with.  
She lifted her head and watched the moon as it crept through the clear sky above. It must be close to midnight, but because of the magic permeating the air, she knew it would be a long while yet before she felt tired. As she watched the steady progress of the moon, her tears fell silently, and then dried altogether.  
She felt him before she saw him, a phantom presence beside her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willingly him to disappear and leave her in peace. When she opened her eyes, she kept them trained on the moon, but still he didn’t leave. Eventually she was forced to acknowledge him, if only to push away the prickly feeling that she was imagining things.  
She turned her head slowly, and he was really there. She huffed delicately, it hurt more than she could imagine. How unfair that he looked exactly the same, she felt as though she had aged a hundred years in the handful of minutes she had been alone with her thoughts. It didn’t seem right that the moon should illuminate his skin just so, and play with the shadows in his hair as if nothing was afoot.  
She was brave enough to meet his eyes, he was watching her while she watched the moon. She closed her eyes, his were dark grey and filled with more sorrow than she thought possible. She swallowed and turned back to the moon, unable to stop the tears that broke rank and trailed down her cheeks.  
“What are you doing here?” She whispered to the moon.  
His voice was full of concern. “I saw you running away again, and I had to find you. It is my duty after all.”  
Ildrith turned her head away, not in any mood to acknowledge his attempt at humour. She stared at the stretch of wood that was the dark stables stretched out on her other side. A few errant weeds grew bravely against the wood, and it seemed to her that small yellow flowers would soon bloom from between the blades. She took a deep breath and went back to the moon.  
“Your duty?” She breathed from between clenched teeth. “I relieve you of your ‘duty’. Now go away. Please.”  
“What?”  
Ildrith felt tears well up again with the sheer force of the confusion in his voice. She grit her teeth and kept her eyes on the moon.  
“Ildrith, please,” he pleaded, “I don’t understand why… What are you saying this for? What happened?”  
She huffed, anger sparking in her heart, and turned to glare at the prince, trying not to see the strange halo that had formed about his head as his silvery hair reflected the moonlight. He was beautiful, even in a time like this, and she hated him for it.  
“Are you really that heartless? Truly you don’t know what is bugging me?”  
His eyes were wide, and his nostrils flared as if from fear. “No, truly I don’t! Please, I cannot stand to see you like this, tell me what happened and we can fight it together!”  
She looked away in disgust, “I didn’t take you for a fool, Legolas. I know that you saw me there, and you know that I saw you with her!”  
He frowned, though she did not see. “With who? Ildrith what are you talking about?”  
“In that quiet, royal place, with your father. He stopped me you see, I was rushing to fetch you so we could… It doesn’t matter now, He stopped me and made me watch. Cruel yes, but I am glad of it now I guess, he exposed you perfectly.”  
He was quiet for a moment and then spoke softly, “Ildrith, tell me again, exactly what you saw.”  
She felt a knife-like pain in her chest and bit her lip, then laughed dryly. “Sure, let us prolong my pain, you can humiliate me completely and then return to your floozy.” He waited patiently, and she sighed, “Fine, I saw you lying under that tree with the elf maiden, I saw her kiss you.”  
“Kiss me?!” There was a long stretch of silence, and then he spoke again, “No, you are wrong, I didn’t… It wasn’t me.” She frowned, and then flinched as her fist clenched over the pin, cutting her palm. She took a deep breath and ignored him, watching the moon was safer, the moon never lied. “Please Ildrith, will you not look at me?”  
She shook her head, “There is only so much I can take. If I look at you, I’ll see…” Her lip trembled and she closed her eyes, the image of the elf maiden tenderly stroking his cheek sprung up behind her eyes. She grimaced and balled her fists over her eyes.  
Legolas knelt before her and touched her hands softly. She whimpered and flinched away.  
“Don’t, please, just leave me alone.” She whispered. “Please Legolas, I can’t stand it.”  
His fingers moved only to pry her hands away from her eyes. She opened them reflexively, and a few more tears fell free. He was blocking her view of the moon.  
“Please Ildrith, I have to make this right, you have to know what happened.” She stared at him, trying to mimic his impassivity, the mask that drove her crazy as she tried to guess his true intentions. He took it as consent. “This is new to me Ildrith, all of it. When I saw you with Igdan, laughing and playing as old friends, how was I supposed to anticipate feeling such rage, and the jealousy? I have never experienced anything like it before, and thus could not feel it for what it was. I spoke out of turn, for that I am sorry. As for what you saw… I removed myself from the celebrations. Do you understand? I removed myself… Completely. I went back to my room, back inside the caves. I was reading a book and went to fetch a glass of water when I heard someone, ah, when I heard you rush past. So I followed you, I thought it better than trying to find out what had happened while in this state of undress. My father wouldn’t approve.” He chuckled, and Ildrith frowned.  
She looked, and saw him properly. He was barefoot, wearing a loose fitting white shirt and faded green leggings. His hair too was loose and ruffled as if he had been sleeping. How had she not noticed before?  
She sat up and reached a hand to touch his hair. “How?”  
He smiled, and she noticed the painful set of his jaw, the fearful shadows on his face. He might even be telling the truth.  
“I am not lying to you. What you saw… Please, promise you will remain calm?” She stared blankly and he continued, “What you saw was an illusion, possibly and probably cast by my father.”  
“What? But why?” Ildrith’s frown deepened, “Does he truly hate me so entirely?”  
Legolas sighed, and some of his tension released, “I thought not, and I am only guessing to say it was him. I might be wrong.”  
Ildrith took a final, sceptical look over Legolas’s apparel and felt a jolt of something primal in her gut. If he was telling the truth, then he was not the one at the receiving end of her wrath.  
“Show me.” She said, and Legolas frowned, noticing the subtle change in her demeanour.  
“Show you what?”  
“Your room, I need to know that you are telling the truth.”  
“Ildrith, what would that prove? My room is just a room, messy and unkempt. All the evidence is right here. See, I still have my book.” He held up his hand and Ildrith saw the familiar title, ‘Beren and Lúthien.’  
A muscle jumped in her jaw, and she took a deep breath. Her hands trembled as they touched his face, and the softness that returned to his eyes at her touch was the final shred of proof she needed.  
“I am going to kill him.” She said simply, and Legolas’s eyes widened in alarm.  
She jumped to her feet and made it all of three steps before he grabbed her arm, halting her, and turning her just as Thranduil had done. She growled savagely, and glared at him, teeth bared.  
He had the good sense to look wary, but kept his iron grip on her arm.  
“Ildrith stop, think about this.”  
“Let go of me Legolas, I don’t want to rip your arm off by mistake.”  
“Ildrith…”  
“No!” She interrupted, “You of all people should be able to see this clearly. Legolas he messed with my mind! He made me think… No, I am supposed to be safe here.” Her voice wobbled and she alarmingly felt tears spring to her eyes. She wiped them away furiously with her free arm and grit her teeth, but it was useless. Her knees shook, and she gasped as the fear and grief seized her. “I’m supposed to be safe…”  
Legolas pulled her close and crushed her slight body to his. He shushed her gently, and listened to her mumbling with ever growing anger.  
“You said I would be safe here, the elves magic should protect me!” She hiccupped and took a deep breath. The scent of the forest, of crushed leaves and a coming storm assaulted her senses, and she clung to her elf. He was so warm and solid beneath her hands, her constant in a world of discrepancy. As she breathed him in, her panic subsided. She loosened her grip on the front of his shirt and flattened her palms against his chest. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothed her, as did his hands that stroked her hair and rubbed her back. Briefly she felt his lips touch the top of her head, and she slowly pulled back to look up into his eyes.  
They were stormy, but full of concern. He cupped her face between his hands and brushed at her cheeks with his thumbs.  
“It was entirely, and absolutely unforgiveable of me to leave you alone. Of course you are safe here, and I swear to you now that I will never leave you alone again.”  
Ildrith sniffled, “Your father is never going to let us-”  
“My father is never going to get that close to you again.” A dangerous spark lit his eyes, and Ildrith bit her lip. “At least, not while I am around.”  
“Then why did you stop me? I think I deserve some sort of explanation, don’t you?”  
Legolas chuckled, “Little one you are far too feisty for your own good! What did you think would happen? To confront my father, the King of the realm in which you are currently residing? My people are slow to anger, but even they might become upset if you tried to assassinate their king at his own party.”  
Ildrith closed her eyes and blushed, but she still felt anger tugging at her heart. That primal beast within snarled at the thought of vengeance, king or not. She clicked her jaw, and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes Legolas was smiling, some secret tugging on his lips.  
She scowled, “Don’t patronise me!”  
Legolas smiled and touched a finger to her pouted lips, “Never!”  
Despite herself, her lips stretched into a smile beneath his finger. “I might have succeeded, I mean, you could have let me at least scratch his shiny armour.”  
“My father is not wearing any armour.”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean.”  
Legolas raised an eyebrow, and relaxed at last, sure that he had gotten through to her enough to avoid civil war at least. Though he was fairly certain that the next chance she got, the feisty Beorning was going to have a go at the king any way.  
She touched his hand with her own, and drew it away from her lips. His face was still haloed by the moon, and Ildrith felt her heart stutter. Unable to fully shake the feeling that this was all a dream, a fantasy of some sort that she had concocted in her final dying moments somewhere in a different world. The good feelings were too good, anger and pain… Those were feelings she could understand, they were all too easy to let in. Besides, Legolas was too surreal to be hers, too much a mythical creature, and at any moment the illusion would shatter again. She was not so sure she could survive it again.  
Her prince frowned, “What are you thinking about?”  
She shrugged, and chased such morbid thoughts away, “I dunno, probably about honey or something.”  
Legolas’s frown deepened and he squeezed her hand, “If we live for a thousand years more, will it be enough time to prove myself to you again?”  
Ildrith smiled and shook her head, “You have nothing to atone for. However, I quite like the sound of that… On your words, I expect you to keep me entertained for at least that long!”  
“Very well!” He said, releasing her suddenly. “What would you like to start with?”  
“Oh no, that is not how it works. You have to entertain me, remember?”  
“Hmm, alright, I propose we do whatever it was that you were so excited to do before my father ruined your night.”  
“Ah, an odd way to cheer me up that.” She flinched at his flippancy.  
“I disagree,” He said with a smirk, “we shall pretend the whole nasty affair never happened. Here.” He jumped back, and then dove behind the corner of the stable. His voice was muffled as he called out, “Pretend you are coming to find me, like before.”  
Ildrith stood aghast, “Come back you silly creature!” When he made no sounds, or movement to return, she huffed at the moon and smoothed her hair, “Alright fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!”  
“Warn me?” Legolas poked his head round the corner and Ildrith jumped. “About what?”  
“Oi! You are cheating, go hide again.”  
He shrugged and the blond head disappeared once more. Ildrith bit her lip, blushing deeply as she contemplated trying to act the fool in front of him. She had never been one for acting or showmanship, but she wanted so desperately to follow his lead back into a good mood. So she squared her shoulders and closed her eyes. Summoning her deepest well of courage she stumbled forward, as though she were drunk.  
“Legolas! ‘Hiccup’, oh Legolas, where are you?” She stumbled round the corner, leaning heavily on the wall for support, and hiccupped several times dramatically.  
She peeked up and froze at the absolute look of confusion on his face. She doubled over in laughter for a moment and then straightened up. “Oh, your face!”  
He raised an eyebrow and gestured to her performance. “I must admit I am confused.”  
Ildrith blushed and patted her hair self-consciously. “I was… drunk, erm, before. And I wanted to, er, dance... With you…”  
The eyebrow attempted to disappear altogether and his mouth popped open. “You were drunk?!” She blushed and nodded. “I am such a fool!” He buried his face in his hands, and Ildrith bit her lip, dread sinking in her gut. “I cannot believe I missed it.”  
“Oh well, I am sure there will be other times.”  
Legolas looked up suddenly, a mischievous sparkle in his eye that made Ildrith gulp and take a step back. “Oh no, we are fixing this, right now.” He stepped forward, and smooth as a cat picked her up at the waist and slung her over his shoulder. “Come on little dove, I have decided on our entertainment for the evening. We are going to get you drunk again.”  
Ildrith gasped, “Bah! Legolas put me down!”  
The elf chuckled, but ignored her and started walking towards the festival. The music grew louder and Ildrith smacked his shoulder, “Legolas put me down! People can see!”  
He laughed again and shrugged, the motion twisting her so she shrieked and clung to him for dear life. He strolled perfectly naturally until they reached the very edge of the hilltop, where he repositioned her so that she was draped in his arms, with one hand behind his neck.  
Now that she could see him again, she glared. He looked far too proud of himself, and Ildrith pursed her lips to keep from giggling. He looked down at her and smiled.  
“Are you going to put me down?” She asked politely.  
“Are you going to behave?” He countered with a smile.  
She glared in response and he laughed, then started to walk again. He went down the side of the very steep hill as if it were a garden path, and Ildrith tried to keep still so she wouldn’t unbalance him and send them tumbling to their doom. When they reached the bottom, Ildrith noticed they were once again in the same strange zone of music where Thranduil had humiliated her.  
The peaceful melody did nothing but grate her nerves. She growled softly, all the bad feeling rising swiftly. Legolas took her hand and squeezed her fingers. She squeezed him back, but stared ahead with a glassy expression.  
She looked up and him, “I’m sorry, but I have to do this, otherwise I won’t be able to enjoy the rest of the night.”  
He squeezed her hand even tighter, anticipating mischief. For once she was quicker than him, and stronger. She pulled their hands to her mouth and bit down, hard. From sheer surprise, Legolas dropped her hand, and stumbled back as she pushed him away. He could have caught her, indeed he wasn’t going to stop her had she chosen to rationalise with him first. But she had chosen a different path, and he sighed as she disappeared into the trees.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“Well, that was quicker than expected.” Said Thranduil as Ildrith spotted him lounging in his own little cushioned area, complete with throne and wine table.  
He looked impressed somehow, and Ildrith growled as she came to a stop just short of his throne, where two guards stood to block her passage. He smirked and made as if to sit up, but then he glanced behind her and his expression darkened. “Ah, you had help.”  
He looked from her to Legolas, who trailed a few feet behind. His eyes dismissed Legolas immediately, and the disappointment ebbed as he took in her wild appearance and furious expression. He picked up his wine and took a sip. Then he slowly got to his feet and strolled forward, slipping past his guards who remained immobile at a glance.  
He smiled as Ildrith’s nostrils flared and she was forced to take a step back to accommodate his presence. She was even more irritated that she had to stand on her tiptoes and look up to glare effectively into the king’s cool blue eyes.  
“How dare you?!” She seethed.  
The king’s eyes sparkled, “Oh, but that is not what you truly wish to know, is it? How delightful, hurt as you may be you still hold a tiny spark of curiosity.”  
“What are you talking about? Don’t try change the subject, king or not you-”  
“You see, right there,” He interrupted her smoothly, pointing into her left eye with his finger, “hiding behind the fury, which I must say is impressive for one of your size, is the curiosity.”  
Ildrith swatted at his hand, “Don’t touch me, there is nothing in my eyes. How dare you trick me like that? You have no right-”  
“Oh sweet child, I have every right. I am his father.”  
“And I am a Beorning! My brothers-”  
“Precisely my point, dear. Is it not better to run away with your emotions and attend your own people?”  
“No, I think not. My emotions are not running away, they are right where I need them.”  
“Just where is that?”  
“On the brink of exploding. Whatever misgivings you have about me being with him, you had no right to do that to me. You have no idea how…” Ildrith bit her lip as emotion threatened to choke her, she growled instead and balled her fists. “I should rip your head off!”  
“Was that a threat little one?” The king’s smile grew wide, absolute delight in his eyes. He took an innocent sip of wine and Ildrith shook her head as though a gnat were bothering her.  
She suddenly recognised the feeling, and glared at the king, “Stop that!”  
“Ah, it is not so easy when you are expecting it. Good. You should always be on your guard.”  
Ildrith scoffed, “And was that a threat, elf?”  
The king shook his head, “There is no need for discourtesy. I am still your king.”  
Ildrith growled, she rolled back from her tip toes but kept her head tilted back and her eyes fixed on the king’s. “You are not my king.”  
His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled, “Oh? Have you decided my son is not quite worth the effort then?”  
“You’ll have to try harder than that I’m afraid.”  
“As will you. Do not think that I am so easily cast aside little one. I will be watching you.”  
“So what? I am to dance a jig and use the correct fork with my dinner before you’ll lay off and let your son be happy?”  
The king smirked and raised his glass. “Something like that.”  
Legolas finally decided to intervene, he placed a hand on Ildrith’s shoulders.  
“Adar…” he said softly, his father’s eyes flashed dangerously.  
Thranduil’s head snapped to the side to glare at Legolas. He practically spat in his direction as he said, “Nuithaped.”  
They glared at each other for a few tense seconds, and then the king turned back to Ildrith and offered a benevolent smile. He reached down and touched her cheek with an air of condescension.  
“Do try cheer up dear, important guests are arriving soon. And we must all do our part for what is to come.” He turned and walked away.  
His guards snapped to attention and followed their king.  
Ildrith stared blankly at their surroundings. She didn’t know whether to feel angry or embarrassed, or both. None of the other elves seemed to have noticed their exchange as she looked sheepishly around. When she was sure then whole ordeal was over, she brought both hands up to her head and rubbed her face warily.  
Talking with the king hadn’t quite soothed her anger, merely moulded it into something else, something akin to determination. She should still be furious, but every time she thought about the king and what he had done, all she could feel was steely resolve. She couldn’t let him get away with it, she just wasn’t so sure what ‘it’ was exactly just yet.  
Legolas touched her hand, “Come on.”  
Ildrith looked up, and smiled. Her heart was warm once more, and she had a small chuckle.  
“Your hair is funny.” She said.  
Legolas cringed and reached a hand up to smooth it down somewhat. It helped a little, but the attempt only made Ildrith giggle harder.  
“Perhaps I should go change first.”  
Ildrith scrunched up her nose, “Nah! Your father has already seen you. Besides, Loré keeps telling me the elves go a little mental during this time. Maybe everyone will simply think you are enjoying yourself.”  
He smiled, “Maybe so, but I still have to look presentable for the…” He bit his lip suddenly and looked down at her, “Oh, very sneaky! Come on little mischief, before you trick me into saying too much again.”  
He led her away, holding onto her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
They made a beeline for the area where her brothers had last been. The music hadn’t changed much, and she found herself drawn to the thrumming beat rather than exhausted as she should have been at such an hour.  
Her feet suddenly felt light, and her spirits lifted tremendously. Tonight was her night, she could drink and dance and be merry with her kin, and best of all Legolas would be there too!  
Legolas seemed to sense her rapidly lightening mood, he squeezed her fingers fondly. They were still hidden from view, and Ildrith suddenly bit her lip and looked at their collective appearance. Legolas realised at the same time she did, and brushed back a stray lock of his own hair subconsciously. Ildrith stopped his arm.  
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Appearances be damned, it’s too preposterous a story to be true anyways. So let them think what they want.” She held out her hand, and gestured for him to pass her his book. “Speaking of stories though, let us hide this one away so it doesn’t get damaged in all the excitement, my brothers can get a bit… involved in the proceedings.” She turned to a nearby tree and dug around a bit to find a neat little nook to hide the book in above the ground so it would not be trampled by accident.  
She paused before they continued any further, and turned to the elf. “Ah, do I look like I’ve been crying?”  
His eyes grew soft and he gently stroked her cheek. “You look like a warrior.”  
She raised an eyebrow, but decided to let it pass. “Come on then, I have to teach you how to dance!”  
They burst through the trees together, stumbling across the first lot of elves and Beornings who were all tumbled together singing strange jaunty songs about war, and drinking the never ending mead. Ildrith grinned and dragged the prince deeper into the fray, in search of her family and friends.  
Before long, both of them heard Gimli’s booming laugh. They turned towards the sound, and came across him, Igdan and Othar - all three dancing in a circle together while Alizae and Lytham watched from within a crowd. Ildrith was pleased to see that more elves had joined since she left, and they all mingled together happily.  
The mixture was strange, but she knew that those of her own people who were here were mostly seasoned warriors, and those who had gone with to fight in the war of the ring. She wandered if the elves that had joined were those that had fought alongside her people at one stage or another.  
Gimli saw them first. He launched towards them with a long stream of very loud garbled nonsense. He practically fell on Legolas, and the elf caught him expertly.  
“Thank ye lad! Where have you been? Yer missing all the fun!”  
Ildrith had a stroke of genius and caught her brothers’ attention by loudly proclaiming, “Look who I caught trying to sneak off to bed early!”  
Legolas looked at her for a moment before being torn away as the dwarf slapped him on the back and laughed.  
“Aye, well done lass! Would no’ be the first time.” He shook his head gravely, and then looked up. “Lytham, drinks for these slackers here!”  
Othar was already making his way over with two mugs of mead, he handed one to Legolas and the other to Ildrith. He hung onto hers for a moment too long, forcing her to meet his eye. “Where have you been sis, you look…”  
Ildrith chuckled nervously, “Oh you worry too much brother-mine. I was round and about, you know, mingling. I even partied with the king for a bit.” Othar raised an eyebrow and she shrugged, “He’s a bit of a bore to be honest. Now come, where is that brother of ours? Legolas wants to learn how to dance.”  
She ran swiftly to Lytham’s side and sat on the bench next to Alizae. The beautiful elf touched her cheek, her eyes were full of concern. Ildrith ignored her, and igdan who had come to hover nearby, and took a deep drink of her mead. When she came up for air she smacked her lips and asked. “Gods, what is this stuff? I swear mead used to smell like the dogs’ breakfast, now…” She took another sip for emphasis, and jumped to her feet. She handed Alizae her mug, if only to stop the elf from confronting her just yet, and seized Lytham’s hands.  
“Come brother, teach me that fantastic little jig. What’s-it-called?” She looked up at Lytham and he frowned.  
“What are you going on about now?”  
She rolled her eyes, “You know, the erm, what is the darn thing called…” She squeezed her eyes shut and then snapped her fingers and opened her eyes wide, “Rufty-tufty!”  
Lytham looked confused for a moment, and then recognition sparked. “Oh, of course. But that is not a two person dance Lil. Come, Alizae and ah…” He started to look around for an acceptable fourth.  
Luckily Alizae was switched on, and immediately grabbed Legolas before anyone else could move. “Come, then they don’t have to teach us twice.”  
Ildrith beamed, and focused on her brother. Lytham blinked at Legolas, and then smiled. “Right, I am sure the music will fix itself as we go…” Ildrith raised an eyebrow and he shrugged while Alizae laughed, “Don’t ask, it just does that apparently. Anyway, you two stand there, like that. Now Lil, over here. Yes, right, now just follow our lead.”  
Ildrith could tell they had been dancing all night, Alizae was watching Lytham carefully, and the keen elf’s eyes would pick up every step he made only to replicate it perfectly a second later. Ildrith only hoped she would be as good so she didn’t make a fool of herself in front of everyone.  
As they began to move, Ildrith focused on her brother, knowing full well that focusing on the prince would end her in a pile at their feet. She had danced this jig once before, but the moves took a while to come back to her, as simple as they were. Eventually she made so many wrong turns that she collapsed on the floor laughing, and Lytham held out his hands to lift her up.  
“Oh you are hopeless little sis!” He was laughing as he said this, and helped her to her feet. “Perhaps you should have another drink and try again later?”  
Ildrith laughed and shooed him away. Lytham smiled, and ruffled her hair fondly before turning to take Alizae’s hand and lead her into the dance. Legolas stood before her, and Ildrith smiled.  
“Do not think you have distracted me.” He said with a smirk.  
Ildrith placed a dramatic hand over her heart and said, “Whatever do you mean?”  
Legolas chuckled and then held out a hand, “Dance with me, little dove.”  
Ildrith beamed, “Of course my prince, how could I refuse?”  
As they stepped out to join the other pairs who had taken up the dance, Ildrith bit her lip. “Ah, I should probably warn you…”  
Legolas laughed and lifted her hand above her head suddenly, sending her spinning in a tight circle only to land back in his arms, his face inches from hers. “Don’t look so shocked, I won’t let you get hurt.”  
Ildrith stepped back a little breathlessly, “It’s not me I’m worried about.”  
Legolas laughed as he seamlessly slip them into the dance, half-way through though it was. “What are you worried about then?”  
Ildrith glanced at his feet, “You are the one who decided not to wear any shoes, remember?”  
“There are no thorns on the ground.”  
Ildrith tripped and caught herself just in time, “Maybe not, but my toes are just as pokey if I stand on you.”  
Legolas laughed again, and caught her hand unexpectedly. He did another lightning quick motion with his arms that had her twirl on the spot and land with her back against his chest, her arms somehow crossed over her body. Ildrith huffed a lock of hair from her eyes and felt goose-bumps raise down her neck all the way to her toes as he whispered in her ear.  
“Do you really think you could catch me?”  
He pushed her from his body, and she spun in a half circle to land with her hands in his. She stared at him, eyes wide as he wriggled his eyebrows and pulled her closer. His right hand slipped to her waist, burning as it brushed her bare skin, and he held onto her right hand with his left. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, as there was nowhere else for it to go.  
She couldn’t even remember his question, he was being entirely unfair, and Ildrith had never seen him so bubbly. He almost blurred before her eyes, so keyed with energy he had become.  
“Shall I show you how hard it would be for you to even try?”  
With no time to think, she moved as he did, stepping back when his foot moved towards her, and racing forward when he pulled her with him. Soon she was twirling again, landing backwards in his arms again for a moment. He spun her out once more, but instead of coming together, she found herself only holding onto one of his hands as he guided her to the side before drawing her back in again.  
On and on they danced like this, the more comfortable she became, the more intricate the dance was. She felt like he was testing her, seeing how far and fast he could push her before she tripped up. But with no time to think, that moment failed to arrive. Breathlessly, she bounced between the spinning trees and lively forest, to the heat trapped between them as their bodies came together. Snippets of contact as flesh met flesh drove her to the brink of insanity, somehow each time was more intense than ever before. The wild, adrenaline fuelled motion of their dance enhanced her senses and left her craving every touch as it came and went.  
He grabbed her waist suddenly, and tossed her lightly into the air, catching her safely as she started her descent. Their noses touched for an instant, and Ildrith could hear his breathing, feel the soft huff of air as it left his lips and touched her own. She longed to lean in, to follow that tantalising trail to its source, but as soon as she caught the thought, he tossed her away. Before her feet could touch the ground he was lifting her again, only this time to the side so she flew under his right arm, twisting like an arrow, before returning to the ground once more. Her toes brushed the ground as lightly as his hands brushed her waist, each motion and movement a reminder of the other. So that every breath was taken in anticipation of some torment or another.  
Almost desperately she followed the rhythm, knowing that each pounding beat of the drum brought him closer and then further, an enticing tease that she was all too happy to comply with. Faster and faster they twirled, until after a particularly athletic tumble, Ildrith spread her arms out to await the next move, only to find silence and stillness. She opened her eyes and suddenly everyone was cheering. She blushed, remembering for the first time that they were not alone.  
Legolas was a flawless gentleman, the dance did not appear to have affected him at all. He was just as perfect in her eyes. Hair a tad loose about his face, compared to its usual braided appearance, but shining silver in the moonlight. The long white tunic hung loose about his breeches, undone in the style of a sleeping shirt so the smallest glimpse of his chest could be seen beneath the ties. He looked like a god caught unawares, while she could feel herself covered in a fine layer of sweat and dirt. Her dark tresses hung wildly about her face, and her pretty flower crown had long since abandoned her. She got to her feet, an arm wrapped about herself self-consciously as folk cheered and whistled. Legolas must have looked beautiful, and while she was proud of him for pleasing his people so, she wished she could have seen it for herself instead of being involved.  
Ignoring Legolas’s outreached hand, she meekly made her way to the bench where Alizae sat with Lytham. She sat down next to her, embarrassed at how many people were still watching her. Probably wondering who the clumsy girl was that kept getting in their prince’s way while he danced for them. It made her blush to think how carried away she had gotten, blood flooded her cheeks and she dove behind Alizae, pretending to look for her drink.  
“Here,” said a gentle voice.  
She peeked out from behind her friend, and saw Legolas kneeling before her. A quick glance told her that everyone had returned to their own business, so she leant forward.  
“Thanks,” she said softly, accepting the drink he held for her.  
Alizae touched her shoulder briefly, and turned to catch Gimli, a stranger, and her brothers in conversation. Ildrith smiled sheepishly at Legolas and buried her head in the mug to take a small sip.  
“Are you alright?” He asked softly.  
Ildrith nodded heartily, “Oh yes, I am grand, thank you for… all that! It was loads of fun.”  
He frowned, “Why am I not hearing the words as you say them?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean: you are saying nice things, but your eyes are telling me horror stories.”  
Ildrith sighed and rubbed her eyes, “I am sorry, I am just embarrassed. That is all.”  
“I embarrassed you?” He looked so hurt that Ildrith shook her head and touched his cheek, backtracking swiftly.  
“No, never!” He looked unconvinced, so she sighed again and continued, “Legolas, you are wonderful, and perfect and amazing in every way! I am embarrassed that next to you I must have looked like a new born foal.”  
“You have no idea what you are talking about.”  
She shrugged and pulled her hand back, “Life time of experience says otherwise. But enough of my self-pity! Where on this green earth did you learn to dance like that?”  
He laughed and stood, a mug mysteriously appearing in his hands. He took a sip, “You cannot expect me to remember all that! It was years and years ago, before...” he trailed off sheepishly and took another sip.  
“Before I was born?” Ildrith asked.  
Legolas cleared his throat and shrugged, “In truth, it was probably before your great grandfather was born.”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes, “You are not that old!”  
“Sure, sure.”  
Alizae suddenly turned to her, “Do you not think so Ildrith?”  
Ildrith blushed, realising just how wrapped up she had become in Legolas, she was leaning towards him, almost off the bench. He was so much better at this public appearances nonsense, which she realised was why he stood up, because she was leaning too close into him. She berated herself and shook her head.  
“Terribly sorry, I didn’t catch that last part.”  
Alizae trilled and repeated herself, “I said, it is a pity we have not joined our kingdoms sooner. Imagine the fun we could have been having this whole time!”  
Ildrith blushed, mistaking her meaning and giggled nervously. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She took a sip of her mead, and Lytham burst out laughing.  
“Gods sis, how much have you had to drink?”  
Ildrith frowned, and Gimli intervened. “Not nearly enough, clearly. If she can keep up with twinkle toes on the dance floor then she needs more ale in her belly!”  
Othar laughed his booming laughter and nodded, “He is right, drink sister, and then tell your poor brothers, who taught you to dance?”  
Ildrith looked between their waiting faces and then down into her mug. It was safer to drink. When the mug was empty she looked up. They were still watching her.  
“Oh can’t we talk about something else, I know how awkward I looked, can we not dwell on it please? Surely you have someone else to make fun of by now?”  
Igdan suddenly appeared, Ildrith jumped, she hadn’t heard him approach, and now he was sitting beside her.  
“They are not making fun of you, at least I think not. Lil that was very impressive! Have you and the elf been practicing or something?”  
Ildrith glanced at him, and realised she was uncomfortable by how close he was sitting. The feeling unnerved her, it was only Igdan after all. She got to her feet trying to make it look natural as she walked to the keg by Othar to refill.  
“Oh please, you are all terrible liars. Besides, Legolas was doing all the work.” She sought him out, and was relieved to see he was still around, sitting in fact, on the ground in front of the benches. “The festivals have indeed lost out if you hide away all the time.”  
He ducked his head and Gimli laughed, “Cripes lassie don’t embarrass him or we’ll never see him again.”  
Ildrith nodded and sat on the floor by her brothers. “No, you are right master dwarf. I apologise. What shall we discuss then, if not the flamboyance of our resident flamingo?”  
Legolas looked up, stunned, and Ildrith smirked playfully. The elf picked up a handful of leaves and chucked them in her direction. She squealed and swatted them away.  
“Here’s an idea,” said Legolas, “How about we all get to know each other a bit better. This is the first day of the festival, and I would like to enjoy a bit of civilised company before you youthful mortals get all gooey from the magic.”  
Ildrith and Lytham gasped, and at once started complaining, while Alizae, Gimli and Othar burst out laughing. Igdan eventually quieted everyone by saying, “Alright, alright, everyone calm down. He does have a point, if the tales are true. So I have an idea. A game if you will, that we played in the mountains when we were off duty and the mead flowed strong.” Othar groaned, and Igdan chuckled, “No, I promise it’s not all that bad.”  
Gimli belched, and waved a hand, “Speak ‘fire-tongue’ then we shall decide.”  
“Alright, the game is simple, I will tell you something about myself, and if you have done something similar then you are safe. If you have never done the proposed deed, or disagree, then you must drink some mead.”  
Ildrith frowned, and Lytham laughed, “Gods Igdan not this again, I don’t even remember half of the last game you made us play.”  
Gimli beamed, “That’s all you had to say laddie! I will go first.” There was a generalised chatter as everyone voiced their opinion one way or another, but eventually Gimli hushed them and began. “I have been to war.”  
Alizae tipped her glass in his direction and then took a sip. Ildrith turned to her, “You have never been to war?”  
Alizae shook her head, “No, not in the traditional sense. I have been out on patrols and cleared a few nests of vermin with my unit.”  
“Huh,” said Ildrith, “I guess what I did doesn’t count either.”  
She took a sip and looked up, Gimli gestured to Alizae, and began stuffing his pipe. “Your turn lass.”  
She laughed, “Alright, uhm… I am born in July.”  
Ildrith gaped, “How is that fair?!”  
Igdan shrugged and motioned for her to drink. Alizae turned to him as everyone else took a sip. “You are also in July?”  
He nodded, “The fifth, yourself?”  
“Eighteenth.” She clinked her mug against his. “I guess it is your turn then?”  
He shook his head, “No, we were the same, it is one of them.”  
Gimli grumbled, “Ildrith, you go.”  
She rolled her eyes, “Fine…” She thought hard for a moment, trying to imagine something she had done that her brother’s hadn’t. “Aha! I have amputated a foot.”  
Everyone groaned, and most took a sip. Legolas paused a moment, “Does it have to be a foot?”  
Ildrith raised her eyebrows, “You have amputated something other than a foot?”  
He met her gaze, “Maybe, now answer my question.”  
“Mmmm, no, it can be anything.”  
He laughed, and put his mug down without taking a sip. Ildrith gaped, “But… You were too squeamish to even suture me when I was hurt, how did you manage to cut off someone’s limb?”  
He shrugged, “Does that mean it’s my turn?”  
Igdan nodded and Legolas grinned cheekily, “I have killed a Mûmakil.” When no-one really reacted except Alizae, he pursed his lips and found another word. “An oliphaunt.”  
Everyone groaned and took a sip.  
So they continued, becoming more relaxed in each other’s company as more and more embarrassing and disastrous secrets were revealed in an attempt to shock and catch each other out. Eventually they weren’t really playing at all, but sitting in a dizzy circle chatting and swapping stories. It was revealed at some stage that they were collectively trying to get Ildrith and Igdan as drunk as possible, them being the youngest of the lot besides Lytham. To this Ildrith said that she had never tried to get her friends drunk on purpose before, which sparked a heated debate among the siblings as to whether Ildrith spiking the pie with old honey by mistake once counted or not. To which she ended up having to drink anyway because her pleas were overruled by Lytham who had appointed himself judiciary over the proceedings.  
When the first rays of dawn were breaking over the horizon, and Ildrith could no longer stand up to fetch herself more mead, Lytham shocked everyone by making one final declaration for the game.  
“Alright all, I have the star card, the end-all…” He tried to stand for dramatic appeal and ended up tripping on his bootlaces and sitting in Igdan’s lap.  
“Oh sit down you fool!”  
Gimli was snoring under the table by that stage, and grunted noisily as Lytham bumped his foot.  
“Sorry, sorry,” Said Lytham as he settled back into his place next to Alizae who touched his shoulder fondly and hushed everyone so he could speak. “I am in love!”  
Othar blanched and nearly choked, “What? When, with who?”  
Ildrith looked at her youngest brother, suddenly feeling quite sober. Alizae looked at Lytham, a warning in her eyes as he turned to her and smiled giddily. Othar looked between him, but before he could utter a word, Alizae very pointedly picked up her drink and took a deep sip. Lytham laughed and fell back, as his head hit the floor he was out, snoring happily.  
Ildrith laughed, and looked around the circle, luckily everyone was either too drunk, or too embarrassed to notice anyone else. So she stood up and dusted her legs. The world swayed slightly, but only as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned tremendously.  
“Oh my goodness!” She declared as she yawned and popped a few joints. “I think that I am going to go for a walk.”  
Alizae stood, looking as sober as when she had started as she walked to her side. “I think I shall join you.”  
Legolas too hurried over, and when Ildrith looked to see who else was coming, giggled to see that everyone else was leaning on each other, getting comfortable and falling asleep.  
They noticed as they walked that they were among the few still awake. Not everyone was slumped and crumpled in piles of drunken slumber. In a few places, the elves sat in the trees gazing blankly towards the sunrise, Beornings and the few Humans present were huddled together around masses of pillows talking softly or dozing peacefully. The ever present music was dulled, and even muted in certain quadrants. A fair number of folk didn’t seem tired at all, and carried on eating and making merry as if it were the beginning of the night, not the end.  
Oddly enough, though it was peaceful and dewy as every other dawn Ildrith had experienced, she didn’t feel tired or out of sorts at all. Sure her head was spinning something awful, but she had drunk enough to water a small herd of cattle, so it was to be expected.  
As they walked, the elves remained in contemplative silence, Ildrith tried to order her thoughts. It was hard with Alizae there, to wonder without judgement why Alizae had denied her brother’s love so easily. She supposed it would be the same if she blurted out to everyone that she was in love with Legolas, it would simply be easier if he denied everything too.  
Still, she was curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin Translations:  
> Adar - father  
> Nuithaped - stop short, not allow to continue speaking.


	14. A Secret Revealed

As they walked around, Ildrith decided to let the matter rest. To ask Alizae what had happened would only risk embarrassment. Instead, she settled in to enjoy the cool dawn air as it caressed her skin and ruffled her hair. Despite how much they had all drunk, Ildrith felt only slightly unsteady. As before, her vision seemed clouded by a fuzzy film of light, lending an ethereal quality to their surroundings. This, combined with the early morning rays, made the walk as fantastic as her companions.  
As they wandered from zone to zone, Ildrith felt strangely as though she were in a waking dream. The sun glinted off dew covered leaves, and occasionally she could swear one tree or another shook itself free of the moisture. When she giggled at something, the images that had caused amusement hung in the air to prolong her enjoyment, and then disappeared from memory altogether. The elves who were up and about came forth and touched her on the arm, their skin felt like silk and their voices melded so perfectly with the music that often Ildrith listen patiently, thinking they were singing rather than trying to engage her in conversation.  
Impossible images such as elves who faced the sky and opened their mouths to breath fire at the heavens burned behind her eyes. Some played with water as though it were a creature, and others lay perfectly still as the forest came to life around them and danced for their amusement. She vaguely remembered seeing elves hanging from trees, their long silken robes dangling like moss towards the ground where many of her kin lay watching the sky for stars that were no longer there.  
Once, they came across a secret place where the elves barely noticed their presence. Here the air was infused with vanilla and sandalwood. Ildrith knelt to investigate a patch of small white flowers. Their turned down faces reminded her of a cluster of bells and she touched them in wonder, half expecting them to ring for her. She closed her eyes, inhaling as she stood. The flowers had such a pleasantly sharp scent, one that melded perfectly with the dawn. It reminded her of feather pillows, and candle light. Ildrith hugged her arms and turned her face to the sky, the combination of scents and music made her feel strangely silky.  
She opened herself to her magic, enough to enhance her senses only, and inhaled appreciatively. She opened her eyes, which were burning gold, and searched for Legolas. He was standing close by, a strange light in his eyes as he watched her. Ildrith smiled and held out her hand, as his fingers met hers, Ildrith closed her eyes. She ran her fingers down his palm, over the soft skin of his forearm, and traced a line over his shirt to his collar bone. She pressed her palm flat on his chest and opened her eyes, a vaguely familiar warmth stirred in her belly and she bit her lip.  
“Dance with me,” she mumbled, and Legolas wrapped her in his arms.  
Every point of contact burnt like ice, but this time he didn’t let her escape. Snippets of memory survived that vanilla place. Like the feeling of flying when she abandoned her own feet to let him carry her as he moved. A moment where time ceased to exist and all she could see were his stormy eyes. The point of friction where his hand rested on her bare waist, softer than a feather. Spinning in a circle, and landing back in his arms, their noses touching, so she giggled. She let her hair fall back as he held her at an angle, unwilling to end the pose at the end of the dance.  
The feel of his cheek beneath her palm as she held him still, if only to feel his breath caress her lips a moment longer. The slight purple tinge to his eye lids as he studied her lips. A moment of caution, when he hesitated to close the distance between them. Followed by overwhelming desire, mingled with a spike of adrenaline that should have been fear. She cared not, and at this point probably knew not, that he kissed her so openly. All she felt was his lips melding with her own, the line of fire traced by his fingers as they moved across her neck and down her side to rest on her hip. In that moment nothing else existed outside of themselves.  
Always too soon, the cold of separation brought Ildrith back to reality, part of the way at least as the scent of sandalwood and vanilla faded away. Legolas touched her arm and she turned round to notice they were quite alone. She blinked and rubbed her eyes.  
“Where are we? Where is Alizae?” She asked dreamily.  
Her prince smiled, his halo replaced by an aura of sunlight. The first time he responded she missed his words, mesmerised as she was by the dizzying clarity of colour in his irises. When she shook her head and apologised, he laughed, and Ildrith found herself laughing too. What a wonderful sound, she thought, on a wonderful day.  
“Little one, I was asking if you wish to return to the festival. Today is an important day, they would surely miss us.”  
Ildrith smiled, “Can’t we stay here forever?”  
“If that is what you wish.”  
“It is, but with more food. I think there should be a breakfast tree. With a beehive on every branch! And oranges in between.”  
Legolas laughed, and squeezed her fingers, causing her to pause and look down at their hands. Ildrith bent over the sight, enthralled by the tingles that raced over her palm.  
“Are you doing that?”  
“Am I doing what?”  
“Making all the lightning?” Legolas touched her chin, and brought it up so he could look into her eyes. She giggled, “I knew it was you!”  
He smiled, but his eyes remained sombre for a small moment as he studied her pupils. “Alas, you are not inebriated as was our plan.”  
Ildrith shook her body like a wet dog and laughed, “Of course not my prince, this is a dream!”  
He stroked her cheek fondly and turned her round, “Come then, I think we should pay Echanar a visit. He will squeeze the magic from your mind.”  
Ildrith paused, as giddy as the world had gone, that sentence gave her stomach an unpleasant jolt. Magic in her mind…  
She stared at the ground and mumbled, “What an unhappy thing, to lose a thought. It ran across my forehead, but it was too fast and I couldn’t read it.” She kicked at a leaf and then looked back up. “Hey look, Snow!”  
She raced forward, and Legolas held onto her hand keeping pace easily as she hurried towards a light grey Beorning bear who was stretched out blissfully at the base of a table.  
“Snow?” asked Ildrith gently as they approached.  
The bear grumbled and rolled onto her back like a dog, tongue lolling out the side as a pot slipped from her grasp to land at Ildrith’s feet. She bent to pick it up, and Legolas released her hand. She took a careful sniff and then laughed.  
“Yes, exactly! Look Legolas, this one knows what we need!”  
She handed him the pot and jumped onto the table, which was mercifully empty of candles at least. Strangely, she picked her way nimbly through the decorations, lifting her skirt delicately so as to avoid knocking anything off. Her nose to the air, she walked from one end to the other. When she got to the other end, she stooped down again and exclaimed in triumph.  
“Aha! See now this is what I call service with a smile.” She held up her prize, a pot of equal size to the empty one he was holding, hers filled with honey of course.  
She waved him over, and leaned on his shoulders to help her down, clutching her prize tight under one arm. When she was steady on her feet again he claimed her free hand.  
“Come now, we need to find Echanar.”  
Ildrith frowned and stopped. “Why? We already have our breakfast.”  
Legolas turned to her and stroked her hair fondly, “Because my dove, you are falling under the magic, and you need to be in better shape for the day.”  
Ildrith frowned, “Honey is all I need. I feel fine Legolas, after all it’s just a dream.” She folded her legs and sat on the leaves with a plop, her hands already buried in the honey pot.  
Legolas looked at her aghast, and folded himself next to her, at a bit of a loss and quite content to watch her try to eat the whole thing at once.  
As soon as she started licking her fingers, he knew it was going to be a messy affair, and when Loré appeared before them suddenly, she was quite covered in honey and leaves.  
Ildrith looked up and beamed at the elf through a gleam of sticky golden goo. “Loré!” She frowned and pointed an accusatory finger in her direction. “You missed all the fun.”  
Loré looked up at Legolas with an eyebrow raised delicately. Legolas shrugged and Loré smiled. She knelt before Ildrith and touched her cheek, forcing the girl to meet her eyes for a moment longer than she might have chosen otherwise.  
She patted her cheek and then turned to Legolas. “Well, that didn’t take long.”  
He smiled and shrugged, “At least she is happy.”  
Loré huffed, “Yes, but she can’t exactly… I mean, she needs to be a little better prepared for the day, if you get my meaning.”  
“Believe it or not, I do.”  
“Well then?” said Loré, a touch of exasperation colouring her tone, “Fix her!”  
“You know I can’t.”  
“Then take her to the king.”  
“No.” He said curtly, and Loré raised an eyebrow in question. “It is no longer an option, we need Echanar.”  
She shrugged, “I last saw him with the king… So whether you want to or not. Alright fine, no need for violence. I will go and get an antidote from him. Just… stay here, keep her happy.”  
He smiled and they looked at the little Beorning with her pot, more content than they’d ever seen her. Loré patted Legolas on the knee and then took her leave.  
She was gone for about half an hour, long enough for Ildrith to get quite an impressive way through her meal. When Loré returned, clutching a small vile proudly, she paused before Ildrith and burst out laughing.  
“What... What did you do to her? I was only gone for a few minutes!”  
Legolas shrugged and laughed, “You try take it away from her!”  
Loré knelt before Ildrith, still chuckling, and touched her arm. “Ildrith, dear, look at me for a moment please.”  
Ildrith looked up with a sigh, “Oh, forgive me, do you want some?”  
Loré shook her head and held out the vile, unstopped. “Echanar wants you to drink this. It is your medicine, remember?”  
Ildrith frowned briefly and then shrugged and took the vile with a sigh. Loré cringed as she snatched her hand back too late. She turned to Legolas and wiped the honey off on his shirt while he was distracted.  
Ildrith tipped the vile onto her tongue and swallowed neatly. She dropped the little glass bottle onto the grass, and stuck her hand straight back into the pot.  
Loré stood, joining Legolas as they waited for the medicine to kick in. Several handfuls later Ildrith paused and shook her head delicately. She dropped the pot and stared at her hands for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were clear once more, though filled with shame.  
She glanced at each of them and then got slowly to her feet, looking at her sticky hands in horror. She followed the trail of honey down her forearms to the little trails that had dripped onto her dress and feet. Her mouth was another story entirely, she felt like a toddler.  
She looked up and blushed furiously. “Ah, I think I need a bath.”  
Loré burst out laughing and nodded, “Yes, I believe you are right!”  
Ildrith peeked up to see Legolas’s expression, and relaxed as she saw that he was holding back his mirth rather than looking disgusted as she had feared. She smiled sheepishly and he pressed his lips together and hung his head in a silent bout of laughter.  
When he looked up, he had sobered, “I think that is a good idea, yes. I too must change for the day. Come let us get you inside.”  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
This time, Ildrith allowed herself to be dressed without much fuss. Her outfit was far grander than the day before. A sleeveless dress of silk that extended only as far as her mid-thigh. Short by anyone’s standards, but around the back a long train attached at the waist and hung to the ground in silky waves. The train didn’t quite meet in the middle at her front, and Ildrith baulked at first thinking how indecent it must appear. When it was on however, she felt quite safe, and the gap in the front actually allowed for freer movement. The bodice was covered with a layer of lace that extended to her collarbone, and matched the royal blue of the dress.  
When she was dressed, and Loré was brushing her hair, Ildrith suddenly clutched her chest.  
“My pin!”  
Loré frowned, “What about it?”  
Ildrith gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, I took it off and I just forgot! Oh no!”  
“Don’t worry yourself, here.” Impossibly, the elf was holding out her pin, Ildrith took it silently.  
She glanced up at the elf, watching her reflection in the mirror as she was standing behind her. “How?”  
“I told you I wouldn’t leave you alone tonight. I was watching your back.”  
Ildrith blanched, horrified to think that Loré saw everything that happened.  
The elf rolled her eyes, “Don’t look at me like that, I left you and prince charming alone once he found you.” Ildrith frowned, not entirely sure that that was any better. Loré continued brushing her hair, and shrugged, “You looked like you wanted to be alone, I wasn’t about to show myself, but I wasn’t going to break my word either. Our magic is strong and you mortals can fall off your perch quite quickly so I am told.”  
“I… Uhm… Thank you.”  
Loré paused, “Really?” Ildrith nodded. “Oh, I thought you would be mad.”  
Ildrith’s eyes scrunched up, but she shook her head. “I am embarrassed, more than anything. But grateful. It actually feels quite nice, to know that I wasn’t alone even when I felt quite… Wretched.”  
Loré squeezed her shoulders and then moved round to stand in front of her. “I won’t presume to ask you what happened; I know it must have been quite awful. I am just glad that you are alright now.”  
Ildrith smiled tightly and nodded. She searched her feelings, and found that it was true. She still felt embarrassed by the trick Thranduil had played on her, but the sick feeling that went along with those thoughts had since vanished. She touched the scar on her wrist thoughtfully and then stood, reattaching the pin as she did.  
“Thank you Loré, for this and... everything really. I am ashamed, to admit what it was that made me so distraught, but you have earned the tale, if you want it.”  
Loré shook her head, “No child, this is not a time to dwell on unpleasant things.”  
Ildrith smiled and hugged her arms around herself. “So… Ah, what have you been up to when you were not on babysitting duty?”  
Loré chuckled, “Oh wouldn’t you like to know! Perhaps when your antidote wears off, I will show you.”  
Ildrith cringed, “Ugh, I forgot about that… Are we sure it wasn’t just because I was drunk?”  
“Strangely enough, no. Your inebriation wore off quite quickly, I am told. It is not all that strange; you are a young Beorning, at the start of your phases. Your blood burns through the alcohol faster than normal.”  
“Ah. So that is what the magic feels like huh?” Ildrith walked in a slow circle and then smiled. “Not so bad…”  
Loré laughed and grabbed Ildrith’s hands, “No, not at all. Come now, it is a big day. The big day some might say!”  
Ildrith allowed herself to be towed behind the elf, who was rapidly losing her uncharacteristic sobriety. “Wait, will I finally find out what everyone has been going on about?”  
Loré nodded and started to run. “Come, your prince is waiting!”  
She dragged Ildrith back through the surprisingly empty halls to the main entrance of the kingdom, and then released her hand and kept running, across the bridge. Too fast now for Ildrith to follow, the Beorning came to a halt and called out for her elf friend to wait. Loré simply turned and waved before leaping off the ground and climbing the nearest tree, disappearing up into the canopy like a monkey. Ildrith stared after her for a moment and then jumped as Legolas cleared his throat softly from behind her.  
Ildrith turned, and held her breath. He was resplendent, his tunic a rich forest green this time, the silver diadem back in place. She bit her lip and he bowed formally.  
“You are beautiful.” He said simply, and held out his hand.  
She smiled and slipped her fingers through his. The electricity she had felt humming through their skin before echoed in this embrace, and she slid her hand out of his, up his forearm under the long sleeve to rest by the crook of his elbow. So much contact burnt like cold fire and she looked up to smile.  
“See, you do create lightning.”  
He chuckled, “I thought we gave you the antidote?”  
She blushed delicately and ducked her head. “Yes, well I still remember some of it, even if I don’t feel quite so affected.”  
“A pity,” he said, “I half hoped it wouldn’t work. I was curious to see what you would do when all the honey ran out.”  
She laughed and snatched her hand back to swat him. He caught her wrist, and interlaced their fingers once more. Ildrith sighed, and allowed herself to be pulled closer. He brought their hands down to rest by his side, and she stroked his cheek with her other hand.  
“You are not real, you know.”  
He frowned, “Excuse me?”  
She sighed, “You just can’t be real. All of this, it’s too good to be true.”  
“What-”  
“Ildrith!” Came Othar’s booming voice, causing both of them to jump back in fright.  
Ildrith looked round to see her older brother round the corner, Lytham in tow. Both were dressed in their most dapper formal gear. Neither looked comfortable, however both looked excited.  
“Ah, good you are dressed. Come, both of you, they are here.”  
Ildrith fell into step beside her brothers as they raced past without slowing. “Who is here, Othar will you finally just tell me what is going on?”  
He looked at her without breaking his stride, “The Lord and Lady of Light have come to bless the forest.”  
Ildrith blinked, “That is it? Wait, no, what is that? Who are the-“  
She trailed off as they passed through into the treeline, and a gentle presence entered her mind. She stopped walking, until the voice spoke.  
“Greetings daughter of the forest. Fear not, for we bring the turn of the tide.”  
The voice was overpowering, but benevolent, as it trailed from her mind Ildrith found herself smiling. Whoever it was, they were a friend. When she looked up, Legolas was the only one who had waited. He held her elbow, concern in his eyes. She smiled and shook her head.  
“I think she just spoke to me…”  
Legolas nodded in understanding, and released her arm. They fell into step beside each other and hurried after her brothers. Before long they reached the place where Thranduil seemed to reside now. White petals fell from the sky, seemingly appearing from nothingness. Fresh fruit, and goblets of wine and water decorated every surface, and all the elves who were present were dressed as regally as their lords. Legolas left her side and went to stand by the king, who was in turn standing beside two new elves of obvious royal descent. Ildrith gasped as she beheld them.  
The Lord and Lady of light, as they could only be. Immediately Ildrith knew her as the woman who had spoken in her mind. The lady Galadriel, as she was introduced, was one of the most beautiful creatures Ildrith had ever seen. Her hair hung like spun gold to well past her waist, and her perfect features were serene as she observed them silently.  
Her brothers were tongue tied, and Ildrith hung back awkwardly, unsure what her place was in such an important meeting. She turned her eyes instead to Lord Celeborn, who was overshadowed by his beautiful wife, but by no means less impressive. Ildrith found that she could not look away, she had never seen two beings so perfectly peaceful, that it shone through even in their complete stillness.  
“Greetings, children of the forest.” Said Lord Celeborn, his voice was like a great flowing river, slow but deeper than expected. “Long have we awaited your arrival, and long has been our desire to meet with you.”  
As he spoke, Ildrith watched each of her brother’s flinch in turn. She wondered idly if Galadriel was speaking to their minds as well. Ildrith squirmed as no one spoke, she wished they had just told her what was going to happen. She felt utterly blindsided and useless as she stood there awkwardly saying nothing.  
“Tell me child,” said Celeborn, turning his attention to her, “are you ready for all that is to come?”  
Ildrith blushed, unsure how to take such a bold statement. She stammered, “Ah, I, ah…”  
Othar saved her by interrupting, “Forgive me, my lord, but we have not shared the good new with our sister, nor any of our kin.”  
Galadriel smiled her secret smile, and Celeborn inclined his head, completely untroubled by the news.  
“Very well, we should proceed with haste then, so as not to prolong their trepidation any further.”  
Thranduil inclined his head and turned to whisper something briefly to one of his guards. Ildrith took that moment to study how Legolas was taking all this. He was impassive as always, standing stoic with his hands clasped behind his back.  
There was a bustle of activity behind her, and Ildrith turned to see elves, Beornings and all the free folk in attendance trickling from the trees in all directions. It took a while for everyone to be gathered completely, and Ildrith took the time to study her kinsmen’s reactions. They looked about as confused as she was. Igdan was nowhere to be seen, along with Alizae and Loré, but it made her blush to think that they could see her regardless. She hoped all the suspense wouldn’t result in anything embarrassing that she wasn’t prepared for. Silently she stood, cursing Othar and Lytham, even Legolas for keeping this from her.  
The very trees seemed to be leaning forward in anticipation, the forest held its breath, as the lady of light stepped forward and spread out her arms.  
“Welcome friends, welcome all! Today we cast off the last of our shadows. Today we rid ourselves of the cloak of darkness that has plagued us for an age. Today the forest is cleansed!” As she spoke, a sphere of light spread from her hands and expanded out over the crowd and the forest. “Welcome all, to Eryn Lasgalen.” Ildrith gasped as it passed through her, this was strong magic, strong and older than the world it seemed.  
She looked around and saw the trees shiver as though something had brushed against their very souls. As she watched, the world grew brighter, as though dawn was approaching from every direction at once. The gnarled, angry looking branches of the tree that loomed over the proceedings lost their irate appearance, and straightened out. Shivering all the way to the tips of their leaves, the trees shook off the oppression of the darkness, finally able to see beyond their hate and mistrust of the world. This Ildrith knew, in the way that all Beornings can sense the will of nature. Deep in her heart, Ildrith knew that the lady of light had just banished the last of the darkness from the forest. Possibly forever.  
The lady of light stepped back, but not before turning to her and winking, a smirk and mischief written on her serene face. Ildrith smiled back, and squirmed, it wasn’t over yet.  
Lord Celeborn stepped forward, and said in his slow, almost drawling speech. “The elves are not long for this world. In time we will fade, those of us who do not go West and follow the last call home. For those of you who remain, this forest is our final gift to you, not just elf kind, but to man, and Beorning alike.” He gestured to the side, to Ildrith and her brothers. Othar seemed to grow as he puffed his chest out and beamed with pride. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and Ildrith watched with wide eyes, trying to understand what was happening. Lytham turned to her briefly and winked. “Brothers, you faithful who have stood tirelessly against the threats to the borders of our lands for so long, descendants of Beorn and his people. We give to you the lands South of Carrock until North of Rhosgobel. May your people finally find peace and flourish in this new world.”  
There was a hum among the Beornings, which grew in magnitude as Grimbeorn, Othar, stepped forward and knelt before the Lord of light. Celeborn touched him briefly on the forehead. Othar stood and they smiled together before beaming and grasping each other by the forearm in a gesture of friendship and joy. Othar slapped the elf-lord on his back as he would Lytham, and Celeborn chuckled as he stumbled forward briefly. He turned back to stand once more beside his wife, a smile still touching his lips.  
Thranduil held up a hand to still the small cheers and clapping that had broken out among the elves. The Beornings dulled their chatter somewhat, but Ildrith doubted they would remain quiet for long, if they felt as she did.  
The king of the woodland realm lowered his hand and smiled. He spoke for a time in Sindarin, and then turned to Ildrith and her siblings. “Forgive me, but not all of my people speak this tongue, and we must all share in your joy this day. Come.” He held out a hand and Othar stepped forward, embracing him as he had Celeborn. Ildrith ignored all previous notions she may have about the king and saw only in that moment a warrior who had fought fiercely beside her family. She stood a little straighter, pride filling her as she saw her brothers embraced as family by the king of the elves.  
Thranduil turned to his people and proclaimed, “See now, our brothers and sisters. See now King Othar!” The elves cheered, and Thranduil turned behind him to retrieve a crown of solid gold from a cushion being held by an elven warrior in full battle garb. Thranduil placed the crown on Othar’s head, and then held her brother’s wrist and lifted his hand to the sky while the crowd cheered. A rain of flowers began to fall from the trees above and filled the air with petrichor and joy.  
When the cheers abated, Thranduil gestured for herself and Lytham to join him. Ildrith blanched, and then blushed furiously, wishing the ground would swallow her up rather than face the king in front of everyone.  
Lytham grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, Ildrith steeled her nerves upon seeing the tears of joy that streamed down Othar’s face. This was a day of great joy. Everyone here had fought so hard for so long for this day to come. Her petty problems had no place among the heroes of war before her. She knelt gladly before the king, and waited as he announced Lytham.  
“See now Prince Lytham!” Lytham stood and took his smaller, silver crown with grace.  
The king then proclaimed Lytham the commander of an army, one made of Beorning, Man and Elf alike. He presented Lytham an elvish blade, one with imbued with certain magic’s that would change the sword when he phased, turning the deadly blade into claws of steel to cover his front paws and help cleave his enemies, whoever they may be.  
Lytham roared, and the crowd roared with him. Ildrith peeked up, and wondered who among the faces were to be his new brothers in arms. Suddenly it was her turn, Thranduil held out his hand, and Ildrith stood a little shakily. She placed her hand in his and he closed his fingers, trapping her. She stepped forward, her heart in her throat, waiting for him to shame her, or bless her. Uncertain which would be worse.  
For a heartbeat nothing happened, and Ildrith stared at the king, he looked down at her and smiled. There was no malice there, not that there ever had been really. The same mischievous smirk touched his lips, and he released her hand.  
“See now, our princess. Ildrith.” He waited until she met his eyes, and smiled warmly, setting on her head a silver diadem similar in design to Legolas’s. The teardrop had a small diamond which hung loosely from its tip, and tickled her brow. She curtsied, and scurried back to hide behind Lytham as the crowd cheered for her too, she wondered if they had noticed the difference in his wording too. Her cheeks were on fire, but her heart was happy.  
Thranduil turned to the three of them, and Ildrith stood to the side, so she was not completely hidden behind Lytham anymore. “See now, our new family! The guardians of the forest, and our brothers and sisters in truth. May there be a new age of peace and prosperity between our nations!”  
The crowd cheered once more, and then music sprung up, and slowly everyone dissipated. Ildrith stood dumbfounded for a long while, staring at the forest with new eyes. Until someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped.  
It was Igdan. He smirked, and bowed before her, “Princess.”  
Ildrith tried very hard to keep her face still, but failed miserably and burst out laughing. She leapt into Igdan’s arms and squealed. When he put her down she grabbed his shoulders.  
“Can you believe it?!” She said, releasing his arms and pulling the crown off her head to admire it. “They gave us the forest Ig! People can build proper homes now, have a real city, with shops and fountains and... Families. We don’t have to hide in the mountains anymore.”  
Igdan’s eyes were filled with joy, and he took the crown from her hand, turned it round and placed it back on her head. “And we have a beautiful princess to guide us.”  
Ildrith smiled half-heartedly. “You had to make it awkward…”  
Ig laughed and ruffled her hair, before he was accosted by her brothers and dragged to stand before Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.  
Ildrith smiled, feeling his pain as Igdan blushed and fumbled with his words. Ildrith took the opportunity to turn round and find Legolas. She couldn’t see him, but spotted Thranduil standing to the side, just as she was. The king looked content, even happy as he watched her brothers with the elves. She shook her head, he was a complicated character to be sure.  
As everyone cheered and broke off into their smaller groups, Ildrith stared into the forest, there was something strange tugging on the back of her mind. Something was unusual about the scene before her. It was not simply the change in the trees, which was startling enough.  
She took a few steps, away from the chattering crowds, and wandered behind the throne area where there were no people and the sounds of the celebration became somewhat muted. She peered into the trees, trying to figure out what was wrong about the scene, there was something there… She knew it.  
Suddenly she gasped, a small elven shape dropped out of one of the trees a few meters away. It was such an unsettling sight that Ildrith started running before she could stop and reason with herself. Elves did not fall. They just didn’t.  
As soon as she reached the body, she realised her mistake. It was Loré, her delicate body slumped around itself as she lay motionless in the leaves. Ildrith knelt next to her, her hands shaking. It was muscle memory, to place her hands on the pale neck, checking for a pulse. Instinct made her duck.  
She rolled back, not entirely sure what had made her dive out the way, until her eyes snapped up and saw the dark shape looming towards her.  
Her lips parted, and quick as an arrow, quicker than she could scream or move, cold steel was pressed into her throat. Before her was a hooded figure, a mask over his mouth so that all she could see were his brown eyes. He never said a word, but Ildrith knew that blade would cut deep if she uttered a single syllable. She stared at him, wide eyed, until clammy hands seized her from behind, and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: I am so terribly sorry, I know that somewhere in there is the most atrocious grammatical error, but for the life of me I cannot find it again... Please, kind soul, won't you let me know if you can find it?


	15. Disillusionment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of torture, and slavery

When Ildrith came to, it was night time. She lifted her head, thoroughly confused, and then sank back down with a whimper as spikes of pain stabbed the back of her skull. She tried to lift a hand and rub her eyes, but found they would not move from her waist, and seemed to want to follow each other no matter how hard she tried otherwise.  
Yellow light appeared from behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight against the sudden brightness. Waves of nausea threatened to consume her as she struggled to acknowledge that she was in fact upright, and not lying down as she had thought. The light danced before her eyes, and then rough hands gripped her jaw tight.  
“Awake are you?” Grunted a voice to match the hands.  
Ildrith squirmed away from the contact, her eyes popped open in shock as her head snapped to the side and a line of pain rippled across her cheek. She felt her jaw click, and slowly righted herself to look at the assailant, whose meaty hand was still raised as if to strike her again. The sight should have terrified her, instead she felt fire in her chest, enough to wake the beast within. A guttural growl rumbled in her throat and she bore her teeth.  
The man stared at her for a moment and then threw his head back and laughed.  
“Go ahead little monster, give it your best shot.”  
Ildrith smiled as the man’s voice added further fuel to the fire, she felt the rage boiling in her blood, and pushed it back towards the little nidus of magic that would be the end of her captivity.  
Nothing happened.  
She could feel her magic, but it was like warm butter on a polished vase, every time she tried to grasp the power that would free her, it slipped out of reach. The man was watching her, his face full of glee, and for the first time, primal fear began to take hold. He knew something that she didn’t.  
“What did you do?” She asked, meaning to snarl and growl with her words, but they failed to cooperate, and her voice came out high and dry like the frightened little girl she must appear.  
“Ahw, ‘what did you do?’ How adorably unoriginal…” Came the sarcastic reply, but it wasn’t from the meaty man before her.  
A well-groomed man appeared before her and knelt, he was chewing a small stick that looked like a toothpick. Ildrith frowned and tried to squirm away from him as his surprisingly dirty fingers reached out to brush her cheek.  
“Does this hurt?” He asked, almost managing to feign concern. Ildrith flinched, and looked at the ground behind him, but his fingers formed a harsh vice on her chin and jerked her head back up. “Look at me. I don’t like being ignored.”  
Ildrith scrunched her nose and jerked her head out of his grasp. The man pulled his hand away and took the toothpick out of his mouth. His expression hadn’t changed, but Ildrith felt her breath hitch in fear.  
The man fiddled with the toothpick before her, not quite meeting her eyes any longer. “I will tell my men not to strike you again; you are worth nothing to us if your face is marred beyond recognition.” He suddenly met and held her gaze, “The rest of you however…”  
Ildrith held her breath, terrified, and then cried out as the man suddenly brought his hand down on her own. He stood, and walked away, leaving the butt of his toothpick imbedded in her left hand.  
The light source disappeared as both men walked away behind her. Ildrith whimpered, and tried to twist her hands in such a way that would allow her to pull the toothpick out. She was too securely bound, and any movement at all would jerk the wood, sending spikes of pain up and down her arm. When she was brave enough, she closed one of her fingers, and confirmed that the stick was all the way through and poking out her palm too. Silent tears ran down her cheeks until mercifully she slept.  
When she woke next, it was because they were moving her. Pain blossomed in her hand, and she cried out before she remembered where she was. The meaty man from the night was lifting her by her bonds. She stumbled as she woke, and he pushed her forward, forcing her to walk. It must have been early morning, just before sunrise, as Ildrith could see quite clearly that they were not just a band of renegades. She had been taken by a small army of men.  
They were dressed the same as the ones who had taken her, masked and hooded as they flitted between the trees. She turned around at the sound of drumming hooves, and threw her hands up as a rider yanked his horse to a stop just before her. As she lowered her hands the man dismounted. She stepped back in fear as he marched up to her and snatched her bonds. A quick stab of pain made her gasp as the man yanked the toothpick from her hand and tossed it aside.  
The meaty man grunted, “Play it safe, we’ll rendezvous at the rock. Sunset, or you leave without us.”  
The man nodded once, and tugged Ildrith with him, back to his horse. He released her suddenly, and Ildrith stumbled back, ready to run. The meaty man grabbed her roughly before she could move, and swung her around. Ildrith stared into his puffy red face, terrified, as he slipped a foul black cloth between her lips and tied it behind her head, ripping some of her hair in the process.  
He hoisted her by the waist, and threw her atop the horse. She squealed against the gag as the motion nearly toppled her over the other side, and then cringed as the hooded man jumped up behind her and kicked the horse into canter.  
It was a thick boned warmblood, and easily held both their weights as it surged forward and raced away from the ramshackle camp. Ildrith wobbled about in front of the man, the long, loping stride of the horse had her clinging to its mane for balance. Half the time she wished she had the courage to simply let go, let herself fall off. A small part of her knew that this would not accomplish much, she had no arms to brace herself, and would probably end up breaking her neck at the speeds they were travelling. After an hour, as the horse was heaving dangerously and sweating all over, the rider pulled his steed up. As it came to a stop, Ildrith planned her escape. She was going to wait until the horse passed a clump of bushes, and use them to break her fall.  
The man must have sensed her tension, for he pulled the horse up abruptly, just short of the bushes, and pulled Ildrith and himself off in one smooth motion. He pushed her as they landed, thoroughly unbalancing her as she spun in a clumsy circle.  
Still, she forced her legs to move, and slammed into someone hard in her attempt to run. The new person grabbed her and pulled her forward, before she could kick, or protest in anyway, she was being hoisted up onto another horse. The same man as before leapt lightly onto its back and urged it into a canter immediately.  
Ildrith groaned through her gag. Her head was still throbbing from before, and with all this jostling and spinning, she felt her empty stomach rise and sit at the base of her throat. Whoever these people were, they had done this before. She was being moved away from the elves with expert precision, by someone who knew that it wasn’t skill or numbers that would win against such an enemy, but speed and timing.  
All day she was tossed from one horse to another. Around mid-day, as her muscles started to cramp continuously and she found that she couldn’t breathe properly through the gag, her captor paused between horses long enough to slip her gag off.  
“Please…” She whimpered, but the man gripped her by her hair and forced her jaw open. A foul tasting liquid was forced down her throat.  
She coughed and choked, spluttering most of the liquid back up just in time for him to clamp the gag back in place. She was pushed atop yet another steed, and felt something snap in herself. She sobbed against the material, and sagged on the horse, losing all will to hold herself in place. The man somehow held her upright, and she realised that no matter what, she wasn’t getting off this beast without his help. The thought made her cry harder, and the rest of the day passed in a dizzying blur of thrumming horse hooves against the damp soil. The musky scent of their sweat was her constant companion, and when mid-afternoon came, Ildrith didn’t even notice as they veered to the side and started to climb a rocky outcrop out of the forest.  
When the horse came to a stop this time, the man let her fall on her own. He hopped off and led the horse away, letting her lie in the dirt, heaving and trembling from exhaustion. She barely noticed as he returned, and wrenched the gag from her mouth. She opened her eyes slowly, the realisation that they were alone dawning on her for the first time.  
They were alone, and she wasn’t being forced onto the back of another horse.  
Ildrith lifted her head with great difficulty. Her vision was blurred, and her mouth tasted foul but dry. They were in a sort of roofless cavern. The rocks that formed a scraggly circle around them were as tall as the trees, and white as dragon bones. The clearing was twenty meters across, and devoid of grass. Ildrith felt a surprising pang of sympathy for the wretched beast that had borne them hence. It was another thick boned warmblood, this one a lovely dark bay with striking white markings up her legs. She stood in the corner breathing heavily, and sweating even though the man had removed her tack and let her rest in the sparse shade. There was no grass for her to eat when she had recovered, and Ildrith could see no plan to get her any water after their arduous journey.  
Ildrith collapsed her head against the sand, too tired to think about anything so strenuous. Her entire body ached, and if she so much as twitched a muscle, she went into spasm. Too soon, light footsteps stirred up the dust around her head, and the man grabbed her by the shoulder. She tried to get to her feet and walk where he was taking her, but he moved too quickly and she ended up being dragged over to the shade and dropped unceremoniously against the stone wall. She pushed herself awkwardly to her knees, and then plopped round so she was sitting with her back against the wall.  
She watched warily as the man retrieved a water skin from his bag. Ildrith cringed at the remembered bitter tasting liquid, but the thought of drinking anything at all made her acutely aware of how parched she was. By the time the man knelt before her, she was eager to take the water skin from him and drink it by herself.  
As with before, she spluttered and gagged at the taste, but could not deny herself a second long drought. Soon the man pulled the skin from her hands, and she stared after him longingly.  
He returned to his horse, and fed her something that looked like soft butter, or cheese. The horse perked up at the smell, and licked it from his fingers greedily. The sight made Ildrith feel a tiny bit better, perhaps if he could show his horse this small kindness, then he wasn’t such a monster.  
The sun moved across the sky at a snail’s pace. To pass the time, the man brushed the dried sweat from the mare, and organised his pack. Ildrith sat and watched him, at first out of fear and distrust, but as the afternoon wore on, it simply became something to do beside wallow in misery.  
Whatever the drink had been, it had given her strength. She began to test her limits, sometimes wiggling her toes, or twitching her fingers, other times twisting at the rope, or investigating the wounds left by the toothpick in her hand. The healer in her was worried about it, as the day progressed, it became red and swollen. Ildrith was certain an infection was setting in, and she hoped they would attend to her before it poisoned her blood or caused her hand to fall off.  
As she became braver, she tried to move her feet, get them under herself in case the opportunity for escape presented itself. As soon as she made one move however, the man snapped to attention, and glared at her from beneath his hood. Ildrith scowled, and struggled to make her attempts more silent. One time too many and the man dropped his brush and marched to her side. He produced rope from about his person, and strapped her ankles together, and then attached that tie to the tie around her waist, effectively hobbling her. All the time he never said a word.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
“Lá mára farëa!” Bellowed Legolas. "Núnatani níra ná tensora!"  
Thranduil’s expression did not change. They were in the forest, where the king’s guard stood around them. Two lay unconscious on the ground, and one of the elves who held him down had a blood nose for his efforts. One elf stood at each shoulder to keep him kneeling in the dirt, his hands restrained so he wouldn’t try to fight his way free any more.  
Legolas ignored the guards, and focused all his energy into fuming at his father. His bow was already strung on his back, a quiver of fifty arrows and two short swords hanging from his sides. He was ready for war.  
“Pan carildë lá melrya, lavnye lelya aparya.” Said Legolas, his voice softening into a plea by the end.  
He hung his head, a wordless plea to the king, who had the authority and sheer force to keep him away should he wish. Legolas knew that with a nod of his head, his father could send him back into the castle with an armed escort, to spend the next year rotting in a dungeon cell. Thranduil simply stood with his arms crossed, watching his son impassively.  
Legolas looked up and balled his fists. “Ada… Please.”  
Thranduil took a deep breath, and unfolded his arms. Legolas perked up, the desperation never leaving his eyes, and watched his father fearfully. Thranduil flicked his wrist and the guards stood aside, releasing their hold on Legolas and revealing a party of Beornings fast approaching.  
Legolas suppressed, with great difficulty, the urge to groan. He got to his feet slowly, and stepped to his father’s side to whisper harshly. “Nírante lencanye.”  
Thranduil turned to Legolas with a look of utter disdain, he furrowed his brows in warning and then turned back to the approaching party of four.  
Othar was the only one not phased, and he slowed the others by stopping to speak with the king.  
“Thranduil, what is it you need? Forgive me but we are in a great hurry.” One of the bears behind him growled fiercely.  
The king gestured to Legolas, and said nothing. Legolas sighed.  
“Forgive me Lords, but I wish to come with. I know the forest better than anyone, I believe I can find her.”  
Othar pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please, forgive me again, but you will only slow us down.” The other bears rumbled in agreement, and Legolas smirked.  
“I was going to say the same thing of you. Come then, let us see who tires first.”  
He paused to give his father a parting glance, and then sprinted away into the trees, following the tracks left by the abductors. He didn’t wait to see if the others followed, silent as they were, four bears raced after him through the forest and they were a harrowing sight for anyone.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Pause for translation:  
Lámára farëa - (that is) not good enough  
Núnatani níra ná tensora! - The Dúnadain will take too long  
Pan carildë lá melrya, lavnye lelya aparya - Since you do not care for her, allow me to go after her (please)  
Ada - Father  
Nírante lencanye - They will (only) slow me (down)  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
The rest of the company arrived at sunset, just as Ildrith heard them say. Her bonds were loosened, but only so that she could be bundled once more and tossed on another horse for the night. The same hooded man was her only companion as they rode in a similar pattern throughout the night. Despite her agony, Ildrith drifted off several times during the night, woken each hour by the harsh transfer between horses. When the sun rose, she was startled to see that the trees of Mirkwood lay far behind to the West. They rode across a great grassy plain that stretched before them endlessly. When the next change of horses came, the man didn’t take off at a canter, instead he allowed the horse to walk briskly along a well-worn path that lead North East. All day they kept on this steed, until two or so hours from sunset Ildrith could make out a large settlement. An hour later they veered away from the village, and headed to the small forest on its Western border.  
The scent of campfires permeated the air, breaking through the ever present musk of the horses’ sweat, and Ildrith lifted her aching head to see if she could spot the camp through the trees.  
They were greeted by a sentry who appeared like a ghost on the path before them, startling their horse. The sentry gave a wordless command, and Ildrith found herself being pulled from the horse’s back one last time.  
Her legs buckled beneath her, but the man she had travelled with kept a firm grip on her arm to hold her upright. She had enough energy to move her head about, taking in the dark forest that reminded her so much like the Mirkwood of old. Musty and dark even before the sun had set fully. She felt a pang where her heart should be, her prince was so far away, walking beneath very different trees and too far away to save her this time.  
She was frog marched into a well barricaded fortress, the eight foot high fence lined with spikes and sentries who signalled each other and opened the giant gates to allow them entry. The horse followed behind obediently, and stopped walking only as the gates shut behind them, sealing off the night.  
Ildrith hung her head as they moved her through the camp, she knew people were staring, but she didn’t want to see them. Only when she was brought to the entrance of a canvas tent, and released so she could fall to her knees in peace, did she look up.  
The first thing she saw were scuffed, brown leather boots, these were attached to breeches which were mostly hidden by a long, dark maroon tunic. As her eyes travelled up, her nostrils flared. The armour that covered the tunic was bronze in colour, this particular soldier had a cape fastened at his shoulders, which swept towards the ground dramatically. The man had striking features, dark hair with a perfectly manicured beard which was trimmed short so as not to hide his pointed chin and high cheekbones. His eyes were dark brown, and sparkled with amusement.  
“Well, well, well…” He drawled, a thick accent already discernible. “What have you brought me today?”  
Ildrith summoned the last of her strength, and squared her shoulders, she sat back on her feet and glared at the man, struggling to appear fierce.  
The man smiled, but it was without humour. “Every one of your kind looks at me this way, in the beginning at least. Have you not already learnt that you are gagged? Cut off from your magic? Speak now child, I would learn your name, so I know that this was all worth it.”  
Ildrith stared at him, her vision blurred as exhaustion tugged at her senses, but she remained steadfast, determined to outlast this manicured man.  
He looked above her sharply, and Ildrith suddenly felt an iron hand wrap across her collar bones from behind, the cold bite of steel pressed a line across her throat. Her nostrils flared, but she stared the man down in defiance.  
He squatted before her, and clasped his hands together. “Your name?”  
Ildrith bit her tongue and kept her glare in place with effort. The man twitched a finger and Ildrith hissed as the blade opened a small line of fire under her chin.  
“Your name.”  
Ildrith felt a strange emotion bubbling up from her chest as blood trickled down her neck. She bit her lip harder, but it wasn’t enough to quell the laughter. The man’s face remained blank, and Ildrith closed her eyes as her mirth burst forth.  
She opened her eyes and took a deep breath before saying, “Or what? You’ll kill me? Slit my throat? You obviously know who I am else you wouldn’t have gone through all the effort, and threatening me won’t work, I know you need me alive or I would be dead already.”  
The man stared at her, and then his lips spread in a smile. “Oh, sweet Ildrith, we are going to have so much fun together! Take her.”  
She was hustled to her feet and dragged off, she glared at the man as he stood up and wrung his hands together. Only when he was out of sight did she release her breath and allow her head to sag.  
She was dragged to a depression carved into the ground, the walls were about 6 feet high, and the roughly circular structure was fifteen meters in diameter. It was too dark, and she was too tired to check, but Ildrith thought that there might be other people down here with her. The air became dank as they descended into the pit, the smell of sweat and fear saturated her nostrils. She gagged, and coughed as they pressed her face against the wall and then cuffed her wrists above her head. The clank of iron as the cuffs locked was enough to prevent her from trying anything, she simply slumped against the restraints and let her mind drag her down into the sleep that so readily awaited.  
................................................................................................................................................... She woke before dawn, her mouth full of dirt from the wall, and her shoulders screaming in protest as she tried to ease the tension her own weight had put on them.  
“That’s a pretty dress.” Came a soft voice from Ildrith’s left.  
She gasped and jumped to her feet. Her vision blurred momentarily, but when the blood-rush settled she could just make out the features of an older Beorning woman chained to the wall next to her.  
“Relax,” said the woman, “I don’t bite, well only literally.”  
Ildrith lowered herself once back to her knees and leant towards the woman. “Who are you?”  
The woman frowned, “Huh, I thought you’d be able to tell. I am Beorning, like yourself.”  
Ildrith nodded, “Yes, I know, I mean. Who are you? How did you get here? Why weren’t you at the elves’ celebration? Was the mountain pass attacked?”  
The woman hung her head and chuckled, “Sweet child, I know not what you are talking about. I have been captive for… A regrettably long time. If our kind guards the Mountain pass still, then it is news to me.”  
Ildrith’s mouth popped open in a small ‘O’, and then she bit her lip. “I am so sorry.”  
The woman shrugged, “What is your name?”  
“Ildrith. What is yours?”  
“Winnida, or Longstride as I was once known.”  
“It is nice to know you Winnida. May I ask? Where are we?”  
She sighed and turned her eyes to the trees above, “To answer simply, we are just outside of a little human village on the banks of the river Carnen. The Iron Hills lie to our North and East. To answer what you were truly asking: we are in the camp of a man who calls himself Hefjorumm, which apparently means something akin to ‘bear-tamer’ in their language.”  
Ildrith frowned, “Who is he? What does he want with us?”  
She sighed, “He is a slave trader, and for decades his kind have been stealing us from our beds at night and selling us off for sport.”  
“A slave trader? What…” Ildrith’s breathing spiked, “What do you mean, why us?”  
“Do I really need to say it again girl?”  
“For sport? What do you mean Winnida? How long has this…? Why didn’t I know about this? Why is no-one doing anything about it?!” She growled, in fear and anger and bumped her head against the dirt.  
“Quiet down child, you will wake them…” They waited in silence for a few moments, as Ildrith seethed and Winnida held her breath. When nothing happened, she sighed, “Tell me Ildrith: how did you end up here?” Ildrith pressed her forehead into the dirt in front of her and closed her eyes. “I am sorry,” said Winnida, “You do not have to say.”  
“No, it’s quite alright. I just need a moment to gather my thoughts, that’s all.” She opened her eyes and tried to face Winnida more comfortably. The iron clasps cut into her wrists, and the new angle tugged on her stiff shoulders. After a moment she simply gave up, and licked her dry lips to stay the parched feeling that was threatening to overwhelm her. “Ah, I was in Mirkwood, visiting the elves. They were celebrating their Festival of Starlight, and I wandered too far from the crowds.” Ildrith thought back to that moment, the last time she had seen her brothers, and Legolas. She gasped, “Loré! Oh gods, Loré!” She squirmed against the restraints in her distress. “They shot her! She fell, and I ran to see what was wrong. She said she would always be watching, and she was, but she was too far away for them to see as well, the elves won’t even know she is hurt. Oh Loré!” Tears sprung to her eyes, and her breath hitched.  
“Hush child, hush now, there is nothing you can do for your friend.”  
Ildrith bowed her head as waves of guilt and sorrow washed over her. Just when everything was supposed to be going right for them, and for their people. Now her poor brothers would have all this to deal with. She stared at the ground, fear replacing her sorrow as she thought about what they would do, what Legolas would do when they discovered she was missing.  
“They are going to come for me, and they are all going to die.”  
“Hush now Ildrith dear, no-one is going to die. I do not wish to frighten you further, but they will never find you.”  
Ildrith turned to the woman, her finely lined face becoming clearer as dawn’s first light soaked into the forest. “What?”  
“Dearest child, no-one will be able to find you now. We are quite alone.”  
Ildrith turned away with a frown. “I wish it were so, but you don’t know my brothers, or my… elf.”  
Winnida startled her by laughing. “Your elf?”  
Ildrith smirked, “Yeah, poor wording I guess, but what else can I say?”  
“Who is he?”  
Ildrith bit her lip, and then shrugged, “I guess who safer to tell than a fellow captive, a fellow slave? None of that drama even matter now does it? My elf, is Legolas Thranduilon, Prince of Mirkwood.”  
Winnida’s eyebrows shot towards her hair, and she asked, “Who are you Ildrith?”  
Ildrith hung her head. She posed an interesting question, who was she that all this could happen to her? A small smile touched her lips. She straightened up, letting the small fire in her belly grow. Speaking with this Beorning woman had helped bring Ildrith back from wallowing. Perhaps that had been Winnida’s purpose all along, to steel Ildrith’s resolve so that she would be strong enough to face what was surely about to come.  
“I am Ildrith, daughter of Beorn, the greatest of our kind. My brother is Grimbeorn, chieftain of all our kind East of the Misty Mountains. I am a healer and a skin-changer, I am a daughter of kings and an elf-friend. I am the one who will set us free Winnida.” She grit her teeth and stood, leaning as far back as her chains would allow, she shouted into the dawn, “Did you hear that Hefjorumm you bastard? I will set us free, all of us! You will rue the day you took me from the woodland realm!”  
For a time nothing happened, then, as the sun began to peek its light over the horizon, three men descended the very steps down which Ildrith was dragged. The man in the middle she recognised as Hefjorumm. He stalked up to her, pushing her back until she was pinned against the wall. “Is that so?”  
Two guards stood on either side of her, they undid her chains from a hook on the wall and spread her arms to the side. She growled and spat into his face. Hefjorumm wiped his eyes and pressed the blade of his dagger against her collarbone.  
“I look forward to seeing you try darling, really I do, but the sun has yet to rise, and I do not appreciate being woken before the sun.” He pressed the blade harder, and Ildrith flinched as it broke her skin.  
“Do your worst tiny man, you cannot break me.”  
Hefjorumm smiled, “Oh I was hoping you would say something like that. Bring her.”  
As they led her away, Ildrith looked back to smile at Winnida, and was shocked to see dozens of other Beorning faces staring back at her. She snapped her head back round, and grit her teeth. So many of her people, chained to a wall like common criminals. She would free them all.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Ildrith trembled as she huddled against the post at the centre of the room. They never removed her chains, even as they had stripped her and replaced her silk dress with ridiculous rags.  
It was sunset, her favourite time of the day normally, now just a reminder of her captivity. She was not to see those poor Beornings from the previous night, and her heart ached. If she could talk to Winnida, and maybe one or two of the others, maybe they could formulate an escape plan. At the very least they could keep her inspired.  
He wanted the potion to leave her system, the one they had given her that had stopped her from accessing her ability to phase. Ordinarily he said her kind was kept on the potion until they were sold, it was just good business really, a herd of angry bears was simply harder to transport than one of humans.  
The ones that were still here were his catalogue, his success stories that he used as show and tell for the paying customers. He had a Beorning to suit all your needs, but his specialty was gladiators. Hefjorumm bragged for hours about his extensive trade to the Beorning fighting arenas in the East. Rhûn apparently had a taste for Bear-fighting.  
The war had slowed, but not completely hindered his business. That was where she came in. Ildrith was the golden goose, the Princess that he planned to debut at a big gathering to draw attention to the trade once more. Buy a Beorning from the man who brought you the Princess gladiator.  
Ildrith heard many a sales pitch throughout the day, and grew to hate the sound of his voice as they tested her time and again to try force the change to occur. At first it was little things, tying her to a post in the grand canvas tent where Hefjorumm had made his office. Her back and neck ached, but it wasn't enough to trigger her magic. So he brought in two guards who had replaced her chains with ropes soaked in a tincture of wolfsbane and nettles, two herbs that burnt the skin of any Beorning like lava. To this she had screamed and raged like a mad-woman, but it wasn't enough to trigger the change. Hefjorumm spoke animatedly about his slave trade the whole while, and Ildrith fought her guards, wishing more than ever that she was as strong as her brothers so she could kill them all with one great swipe. Mid morning, Hefjorumm signalled to the guards, and they secured her wrists and feet to the post once more. Ildrith slumped against the pole and huddled in the dirt. She hadn't eaten in more than a day, and her strength was failing her. Weirdly enough, the next torture he had lined up was a seamstress.  
Her ever present guards presented her with a waterskin, and tilted her head back, allowing her to drink as much as she could without choking and spluttering. The seamstress took notes as Hefjorum described her new outfit. One designed of course to humiliate her new status. She was horrified to find that the seamstress who came in, head bowed and lips sealed, was a Beorning too. She took her measurements in silence, once Hefjorum bid her to start, and never reacting to anything else Hefjorumm said. She simply did her job and then sat in the corner sewing and cutting.  
Ildrith barely said two words as Hefjorumm chattered about his plans, somehow confident that Ildrith was going to play along once the potion wore off. Occasionally, something he said would make her so mad, so sick that she would reach for her magic in a desperate attempt to shut him up. It remained just out of reach however, and she settled back to wait it out.  
Around lunch time, Hefjorumm grew bored, his tales all told, and his ego quite satisfied, he wandered away, posting the same two guards at the entrance to her new home. She was hitched to the post, but given a hearty meal that she accepted quite gratefully. It was bland, just stale bread and an unidentifiable clump of dried meat, but it tasted like heaven to her empty stomach.  
When the seamstress was finished, she left the clothes in the corner and left without a word or glance in Ildrith’s direction. Shortly after that, Hefjorumm had returned, a strange excitement in his eyes. He barked an order to the guards, and they hauled Ildrith to her feet. Feeling strong after her meagre lunch, she stood tall, and glared at him. Ready for the next round of torture to begin.  
“I have a wonderful idea! While we wait for the potion to wear off, my men have captured a treat for you.”  
Ildrith remained silent, but felt her gut clench painfully, she did not like the weird, almost manic excitement in his eyes as he reached for her new clothes and chucked them at her.  
“Dress her girl.” The seamstress hurried in, eyes down, and picked up her hard work from the ground before the red dirt could stain the fabric.  
The guards undid the chains from her wrists, but left the cuffs in place. Ildrith protested as the seamstress began to undress her, but quieted when the guards and Hefjorumm turned their backs. She had studied the room sufficiently throughout the day, but the loose flap behind her was useless with her feet still tied to the post.  
When the seamstress hurried away, Ildrith looked down at herself in disgust. The clothes were faux leather, a shirt and skirt that made a mockery of real armour. The skirt had leather strips over thigh high maroon material, the strips were too thin and far apart to have any real advantage in battle, but it was better than the bodice. It too was faux leather, with silly designs in gold all over, and no shoulder or neck protection to speak of. The epaulets were flimsy too, and fell in strips that tickled her arms. There was a gap between her bodice and skirt that showed the bottom half of her scar. Ildrith tried to cover her stomach self-consciously, and was glad that her thick hair hung forward to preserve some of her modesty.  
It was designed to humiliate her, but she was not going to let him win. So she stared Hefjorumm down until he turned away and retrieved something from outside the room. The guards pushed her forward, and she blinked against the bright afternoon light.  
Hefjorumm handed her a sword, and she took it in disbelief. Its weight made her wrist sag, and she looked down briefly, the blade glinted in the sunlight. It was of a strange design, curved and notched in places, but very real and very sharp. She paused for a split second and then swung it as hard as she could for Hefjorumm’s neck.  
He watched her calmly, expectantly, and grinned as the blade came down. The clang of metal on metal rang through, and jolted her arm. She dropped the sword in surprise, two other swords had come down in defence of Hefjorumm. Her guards come to their leader's defence, they didn’t look angry however as she jumped back, arms raised, ready for retaliation to her insubordination.  
They looked... bored, and Hefjorumm looked quite happy in fact, as if they had expected nothing less.  
“Pick it up,” Hefjorumm said before he turned and walked away.  
Ildrith stared at the sword and ignored it, she turned in the opposite direction, but was accosted by her guards before she could bolt. She groaned as they dragged her away, her bare feet leaving two snake-like trails in the dirt.  
She was tossed into a square paddock about five by five meters, the fence was made of wooden slates too closely packed for a person to climb through, but not so high that Ildrith couldn’t see the crowds of hooded soldiers gathered around. One of her guards threw the sword at her, and Ildrith threw her hands up, stumbling back. It landed with a thud in the dirt, and the guards closed the gate.  
There was chatter among those gathered to watch, as Ildrith spun around slowly, taking in all the hooded figures. Suddenly the gate opened again, and Ildrith snapped to attention, she gasped and jumped back, her back hitting the fence opposite to the gate.  
The opened gate revealed a creature so twisted, so evil that its mere presence darkened the forest around it. If she had been close enough, the top of her head would be level with its shoulder. It didn’t look scared, or injured, there was nothing about it that caused her to feel empathy. Its black eyes were flat and calculating, filled with an intelligent hatred and malice.  
She knew it to be a Warg. Its dirty coat might have once been brown, and its paws were bigger than her two hands clasped together. It hadn’t seen her yet, but snarled at the men closest to it.  
Ildrith clung to the boards behind her, disbelief and horror clouding her judgement. She was frozen, did they expect her to fight it? To kill it? She was no warrior, especially not in this form.  
Her breath hitched, and the Warg’s eyes snapped to the side, zoning in on her immediately. Its lips curled in another snarl, this one laced with joy. It was going to kill her, and enjoy every second of it. It took a step forward, and one of its claws knocked against the sword that lay abandoned in the dirt. Ildrith vowed never again to drop a sword that was handed to her, no matter who it was from.  
The Warg shifted its weight, and Ildrith bent her knees. As it leapt for her throat, she dove towards it, but slightly to the side. She meant to tuck and roll, like the boys did when they mock fought. She missed the snapping teeth, but crashed into the dirt gracelessly, earning herself a mouthful of dirt, and her sword.  
She had aimed for the hilt, but cut herself instead on the blade. She didn’t care as she grasped the thing for dear life and scrambled to her feet. The Warg too had recovered from its dive, and was facing her again.  
This time it started to circle her, its keen eyes on the sword in her hand. She hoped the sword alone might be enough to dissuade it, but it obviously decided she was worth the risk. It attacked again, this time knocking her prone as she tried to dodge out the way.  
She screamed in pain as three lines of fire opened on her right arm. Hot blood spurted forth and dripped into the dirt by her head. She didn’t have time to feel it though, as the Warg brought its jaws snapping towards her face. She rolled to the side just in time, and its teeth grazed her shoulder. Her fingers clutched the sword still, and she cried out in pain and defiance as she swung the sword from under the beast, to slash at its belly.  
She might as well have been a gnat for all the good it did. The beast’s hide was too tick, and the blade simply glanced off awkwardly and bent her wrist. In a panic, Ildrith started to kick and claw at its chest and belly, anything to distract it and get it off her.  
It partially worked, the beast’s weight lifted from her chest and she rolled away. Its thick paw knocked her quickly prone, and she fell on her stomach, the sword crumpling beneath her, trapping both it and her hand. She whimpered as the Warg’s heavy weight pressed down from the paw on her back. She was pinned, and wouldn’t even see her death as it came. Hot breath tickled her ear, and saliva dripped on her cheek. She closed her eyes as it growled and opened its mighty jaws.  
Suddenly its full weight collapsed on top of her, its teeth bumping against, but not clamping down on her cheek as its mouth sagged open. It released an agonal breath, right into her face, and then the life left its eyes.  
Her ever present guards leapt over the wall and dragged her out from under its corpse. Shaking from adrenaline and fear, she clung onto the sword and looked back. Four arrows protruded from its chest. They shot strong and true, killing it instantly from the looks of things.  
Ildrith felt hot tears well in her eyes, and silently let them well over and spill. Death of a creature, even one so twisted as a Warg, was a crime against nature. If only she were strong enough, she might have wounded it and reasoned with it. Orcs rode Wargs, maybe they could have escaped together.  
The throbbing in her arm brought her back to reality. The Warg would have killed her in an instant, if only for the sport. She looked away from the corpse, straight into the eyes of Hefjorumm, who shook his head.  
“That was disappointing Princess. You need to get better or you won’t make me any money, then what’s the point of you?”  
He walked away before she could respond, and Ildrith felt her tears dry up. If it was the last thing she did, she would end that man.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Legolas stooped to the ground, disappearing momentarily beneath the waist high grass. They had swapped horses once more here. For the last time he was sure, as the initial tracks, the ones he actually cared about, indicated a slower pace. He ignored the hundred or so foot soldiers’ footprints that marched over Ildrith’s. He cared not how many he would have to fight, only that she was still alive.  
The bears caught up, and sniffed the ground. He nodded to them, impressed by their resilience. It was his nature, and seemingly their as well, to keep going beyond what was the physical limit of Humans. It had frustrated him to no end during the war, when chasing down the poor Hobbits that he had had to stop every day to allow the others their rest. Gimli knew this, and as much as he had wanted to come with, understood that his friend simply needed to do this alone.  
When they had found Loré, and all reason dissolved into chaos. Gimli had been the one to calm them all. He reminded them that an army of Dúnadain rangers lay in wait for Aragorn’s orders. They awaited the King’s word, but were already fully prepared to march against the East. A raven was sent for Gondor, and Gimli promised his friend that he would personally rally the Dúnadain while they awaited word from the king. Legolas knew that Aragorn would agree to their plan, if he knew the whole story that is, and thus he cared not how the dwarf completed his mission, only that it might be nice to have the Dúnadain as back up should pure rage not be enough to end the scum who had kidnapped Ildrith.  
He didn’t have that problem with the Beornings. Their breathing was laboured, but they never faltered or showed signs of slowing down. Indeed, now they set off without him, and he ran to catch up. They must be getting close, if they had decided to walk with her and preserve their horse’s strength at last.  
“Tulnyë melda nin.”  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Ildrith sat in the arena feeling very sorry for herself. Her arm where the Warg had scratched her was hot and inflamed. When she moved her finger they felt like lead. And pain was her constant companion as stiffness quickly made itself known throughout her body.  
She wallowed in misery for an hour or so before Hefjorumm returned. A young Beorning boy trailed behind him, carrying a tray laden with goods.  
“Rise up Princess, today is the day!”  
Her two guards entered the arena behind him, and lifted Ildrith upright. She cried out as the guard on her right tugged on her gashes. The middle one lay across the middle of her elbow and extended right round to the point, where it reached the bone, exposing the sensitive nerve ending there.  
“Oh hush, it’s not that bad. Besides, I brought you a healer. Not one of your people I am afraid, though I hope you have noticed all the effort I am putting into making you feel at home here. Are your servants also Beorning back home, or do you capture humans even as we capture you? Eh it matters not. Tend to her please.”  
One of the guards bent, his hood fell back to reveal a shock of jet black hair cropped short. He lowered his mask too, and Ildrith noticed his chin was clean shaven. He kept his eyes down as he worked, and Ildrith watched her wounds rather than him. At the end, as he secure the bandage however, she touched his hand.  
“I know you,” she whispered, “you were the one I rode with.” The one who showed the horse kindness, she added in her head. Now he had shown that same mercy to her.  
The guard returned to her side; Ildrith opened and closed her fingers. It was definitely less painful, but a far cry from the treatment she would have given herself. The boy placed a tray before her, and then scurried out. The guards released her and she dropped to her knees. Ildrith’s stomach growled, but she looked up to see Hefjorumm’s reaction first. The food could be laced with poison, anything to give her a disadvantage.  
“Eat,” he said absently before launching into a speech, “Today the potion will wear off I am sure of it; you just need to reach your limit. So you will face another Warg I think. Get your blood-lust up. No, wait, orcs first! What, just because we trade with them doesn’t mean we like them. They are animals, much like yourself. Yes, an orc next then, once you have phased the fun will start in earnest! Sound good?”  
Ildrith ignored him and ate her meal methodically. It was cold porridge, lumpy and unappetising, but nutritious enough to sate her hunger. She ignored him until he kicked the dirt before her, covering herself and her food in red sand. Then she stood up and eyed him impassively.  
“Here,” he handed her the same sword as before. She eyes it with much trepidation, and then accepted it, remembering her oath. Hefjorumm smiled wryly, and then signalled to the guards. They filed out the arena, and Ildrith stared at the dirt.  
Her impassivity began to lose its charm, as adrenaline seeped into her blood. It was too soon to be thrown into battle again. She was stiff and sick, all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep.  
When the gate opened behind her, she turned slowly, her hands shaking from the adrenaline as it enhanced her fear. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped they would intervene again, that same small part also knew that before they did, she would have to go through a lot of pain. Not a promising prospect.  
An orc was let into the ring, snarling as the Warg had before him. Ildrith fought the urge to gag, she could smell him from across the arena, dank and dirty. He was roughly her size, but stout and twitchy. He had two blades, and chains to match her own. They undid the chains at his wrists leaving him with bangles.  
He turned round to struggle with the guards at the gate. But they pushed him back and slammed the gate shut. Ildrith breathed heavily through her nose as he turned to face her. They were both wary of the other, she wondered idly what she must look like to him, like a warrior, or a scared little girl playing dress up?  
He snarled and leapt towards her. She barely raised her sword in time, he knocked it aside easily, and pushed her back so she slammed against the wall. As her back hit the boards, her adrenaline erased all the pain in her arm. A good thing as she could once again think clearly, a very bad thing as her legs started to feel wobbly and her hands shook.  
He thrust his blade towards her gut, she dove to the side to avoid it, and ended up sprawling in the dirt once more. He kicked at her as she scrambled back to her feet, and she took a wild swing at him. He dodged it easily, and leapt to land a shallow cut across her exposed abdomen.  
Ildrith hissed, and ran back. He was short, like her, so she might be able to outrun him long enough for them to get bored and kill one of them. The orc was quick however, and angry as it snarled and slashed just missing her with its horrid blade. Ildrith looked up as she dodged and ran away. She saw her chance.  
A wooden slat was sticking out a little more than the others, it would provide enough of a foot hold for her to leap out of the arena. She led the orc to the opposite end, narrowly avoiding his blade, and then pushed herself off the fence and sprinted to her slat. It worked beautifully, and she pulled herself out, nearly poking her own eye out with the sword as she did so.  
As her feet touched the ground, she was surrounded by hooded figures. They groped at her on either side, and then turned her round. One took her sword, another kicked the back of her legs, dropping her to her knees.  
Hefjorumm stormed over, his expression one of complete and utter fury. “You bloodless coward!” He made a quick circle, the point of which Ildrith couldn’t see, until he moved to the side and the head of the orc dropped from its shoulders onto the ground before her. His body flopped back into the pit and landed with an echo in the silence.  
Ildrith seethed, gritting her teeth at Hefjorumm even as he raised his hand against her. Her head snapped to the side, and a small spittle of blood landed on the shoe of the guard holding her. She poked the split in her lip with her tongue, then peeked back at him, if only to see that he had slapped her and not punched. It hurt enough to be a punch, but his hand was open as it came down again.  
She gasped, and coughed as blood filled her mouth from the cut inside her cheek. She let her head hang, but his hand came down again, this time hard enough that the guards let her go and she fell in the dirt with a huff.  
“Play by the rules little girl, or I’ll let the next one kill you.” She barely heard as most of the hooded men shuffled away. She peeked up, hoping Hefjorumm was gone too. He was looking down at her, waiting for her to respond it would seem.  
She rolled onto her back, and groaned. He shook his head, “Nothing? No change?” He hung his head and rubbed his eyes wearily, “Fine, you have her for the rest of the day, do what you want but don’t kill her. If she phases bring her to me immediately.” He turned around and stormed off.  
Ildrith lay on her back wheezing, unable to believe that she had gotten off so lightly. He had looked mad enough to kill her. A figure blocked out the mottled sun above her, and Ildrith’s eyes widened as she recognised the face. It was the well-manicured man who had woken her the first night she had been taken.  
He knelt beside her, and touched the cut on her stomach with hands she somehow knew would be dirty. She squirmed and sat up.  
“Get away from me, pig.”  
He chuckled, “Oh sweet-heart that is not how this works at all. See he gave you to me for the day, which means that you do as I say, or it’s going to get messy.”  
Ildrith frowned, and touched a hand to her cheek, which had started to throb in time with her other injuries. “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same with you.”  
“It is. Either way, I get to have my fun.” He smiled crookedly, and Ildrith cringed.  
She looked around, and saw in alarm that they were quite alone. There was no-one in sight, not even a stray guard or servant. When she looked back at the man his smile was gone.  
“Get up.” He said as he stood.  
Ildrith stared at the leaves in the tree above her. There was nothing to be gained from lying here, but she was not so sure that she had enough strength to obey him yet.  
The trees were so dark, the green almost black where the sun couldn’t reach through. She stared at a particular branch, thinking how great it would be to climb up and rest there for a while. A foot nudged her side, and she groaned.  
“Five more minutes?” She whispered to herself, before rolling onto her stomach and shifting slowly into kneeling position.  
She looked up and around, the man was leaning against the fence, a sword of his own dangling at his side. Ildrith frowned, and stayed with her hands on her knees, well aware that her sword was in front of her and to the left. Buried in the sand with the hilt facing her, just where the guard had dropped it.  
“So what now, you want to teach me to be a master swordswoman? Train me to fight in your circus act and make the crowd ‘ooh and ah’?”  
The man shrugged, “If that is how you want to do it…”  
Ildrith rolled her eyes. “May I at least know your name?”  
“Melos.”  
“What do you want with me Melos?”  
“I want you to phase, one way or another.”  
“Oh, just that. You should have said so.”  
He chuckled, and rattled his sword against the fence. “Recognise this, Princess, as your one chance to do it the easy way.”  
“Isn’t that a bit cliché?” Ildrith asked with a cheeky frown.  
He shook his head, “Oh, you don’t want to get on my bad side girl.”  
Ildrith touched the infection where the toothpick had been and glared at him. “This is your good side? That makes me feel so much safer.”  
He rattled his sword again. “Enough, stand up, or phase.”  
Ildrith sighed, “What exactly do you hope to achieve here? If I phase I could just eat you, and if I don’t, torture won’t make me turn.”  
“You seem to forget that this is not my first time.” He pushed away from the fence and started walking towards her, “You have three seconds to choose.”  
Ildrith glared at him. Secretly, she was pushing for her magic, and had been for a while now. Whether it was pure fear, or the after effects of the potion she could not say, but it was beyond her reach and she was terrified of what would happen next as a result.  
She watched him with ever widening eyes as he stalked closer, and then made her decision. She made as if to lean forward and grab her sword, instead she scooped up a large handful of dirt, and threw it up into his face as he got too near. Luckily it was a successful diversion tactic, which allowed her enough time to spring to her feet and spin round to dart into the forest. Her lungs felt ready to burst after the first few steps, but she pushed past the pain of exertion and took ever greater strides.  
He didn’t even bother chasing her, as she heard no sounds of pursuit before something hard smacked her between the shoulder blades, hard enough to throw her off balance, causing her to stumble and then fall. She was rewarded with a mouthful of red sand and leaves.  
With a growl of frustration she spat out the dirt, pushed herself back up, and turned round to pick up what he had thrown at her. A dagger! She stared at it in horror for a moment, knowing from her brothers that knife throwing was a highly inaccurate form of combat. Melos may well have been trying to kill her, but the angle was just off. She shook away the thought, and held it before her defensively as she got slowly to her feet.  
She hadn’t much time to think about it, as a few seconds later, the unmistakeable sound of an arrow came whistling past her ear.  
She started to run again, zig zagging through the trees while her mind ran in circles. How did he get a bow? What chance did she stand against a mad man with a bow in the woods? She tried to make her movements erratic, but the arrows whistled closer and closer, bouncing off the trees around her. When one nicked her hair, forcing her to squeal and duck to the side. She realised he was herding her back towards the camp.  
She growled, and smacked her palm against a tree trunk. Pausing to catch her breath may not be the wisest course of action, but she felt out of options. No matter where she tried to run, he would be there to stop her.  
“Oh come on princess! Don’t make this easy for me… Keep going, one more turn and you’re home again.”  
Ildrith clamped a hand over her mouth, he was so close. She cowered against the tree, he was parallel with her, five meters away with his bow pointing in the wrong direction. She could duck down and slip away before he noticed. She could also leapt towards his throat, and end it once and for all.  
The thought made her smile, and she tightened her clammy grip on the dagger. One step was all she needed, then he would be in range for her to sprint forward quick enough to knock him off balance and bury her knife in his throat.  
She closed her eyes briefly, and then took the fateful step. He kept his bow trained in the opposite direction, arrow half drawn. The leaves crunched beneath her feet as she pushed off the ground hard enough to leave a dent, and leapt onto his back. Or so she thought.  
Quicker than she could see, he turn round and caught her wrist.  
“Oh, sorry, did you think I hadn’t heard you?” He smirked, and twisted her wrist, bending the dagger back towards her abdomen. “You just have to try harder princess.”  
He jerked his arm, and Ildrith gasped as ice gripped her belly. He released her hand, and she dropped to her knees. The pain didn’t hit her properly until she looked down to see the hilt of the dagger hanging from her stomach. Her hands felt useless as they grasped the hilt together, the forest was deathly quiet, until she ripped it out. And her hands were bleeding, no, but they were covered in blood. It was too hot for the ice that filled her abdomen, too much hot red blood spilled from between her fingers, stronger with each breath.  
The pain was indescribable, but the shock was worse. He stabbed her, or did she stab herself? Either way, this was something people died from. This was something her mentors shook their heads at and put pressure on. Pressure. Stop the bleeding. She pressed her useless hands into the wound, and cried out. Her brain couldn’t process the pain, so it bypassed her consciousness and went straight into her muscles.  
What more could she do, she didn’t even have a cloth. Something white dropped into her hands - a cloth. She took it numbly and pressed it into the wound. The blood stopped flowing so strongly, and Ildrith felt some of the sound return to the world.  
Melos grabbed her shoulder and forced her to her feet. She cried out and looked up, who could be so cruel? He had already killed her, why was he still fighting?  
She looked into his eyes, pain and confusion flowing freely.  
He shook his head, “I expected more, aren’t you supposed to be a healer?”  
Ildrith heard his words from under water and shook her head, her lips felt numb. “You stabbed… me.”  
He shrugged, “Yeah, so?”  
She felt her knees buckle, and Melos let her drop.  
“Ugh, you had such fire before. Such brave words, but look at you. One small scratch to the side and you give up the chase.” He knelt before her. “Perhaps you cannot phase after all?” He grabbed her chin, and turned her head from side to side. “No, you have. Not a lot, but even once is enough.”  
Ildrith felt a wave of dizziness rush over her, and one of her hands dropped to the ground. Her fingers brushed the hilt of the knife. She didn’t even pause to think. She simply grabbed the knife, and thrust it as hard as she could towards his face. Impossibly, he caught her wrist again, but his eyes grew wide, and a smile touched his lips.  
“Now that is more like it. See, you’re not dead yet. Life is in your limbs, let it feed your anger. Then your magic, phase and we are done, simple as that.”  
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. As soon as she made the movement, pain blossomed in her side, enough to make her head spin. But the film of fog lifted from her eyes, and her ears popped audibly. The pain made her hiss, and she struggled to her feet.  
The cloth fell from her side, and she swung again at Melos, this time with her fist. A strangled grunt left her lips, and he smiled in earnest.  
“Yes, just like that!”  
He pushed her hands aside easily, and a wild delight lit up his eyes. She growled and kicked at his legs while bombarding him with her fists. Melos laughed gleefully and parried her every move.  
“Wonderful, here now.” Somehow he had the dagger, and slipped it into her hand.  
Ildrith gripped it tight and cried out, swinging it wildly, trying with desperate anger to get past his impossibly quick hands. She just wanted to cut him, even once. She didn’t even feel the blood as it seeped from her side, nor did she feel the throbbing of her infected hand, or the tears that ran down her cheeks.  
Suddenly, and all at once, she hiccupped, and her vision went dark. The shock caught up as adrenaline wore off. Melos watched her drop, and caught her slender form before it hit the ground. She was just starting to show promise, but she was simply too weak. As he walked back to the camp to set her before the healers, he observed her many scars. She looked like a seasoned warrior. How could she have survived so many battles? Perhaps it was the sheer force of Beorning stubbornness that kept her alive thus far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phrases and translations:  
> Lámára farëa - (that is) not good enough  
> Núnatani níra ná tensora! - The Dúnadain will take too long  
> Pan carildë lá melrya, lavnye lelya aparya - Since you do not care for her, allow me to go after her (please)  
> Ada - Father  
> Nírante lencanye - They will (only) slow me (down)  
> Tulnyë melda nin - I am coming my love


	16. Concilium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is simply a fanfiction, I do not pretend to own the Lord of the Rings or any of the characters.  
> Warnings: Adult themes; torture, violence and slavery.

Ildrith knelt with her head pressed against a post. Her hands were tied together above her head, and every breath in tugged on the sutures in her side. With each breath out, her body sagged and the claw marks seethed to remind her she would never again be truly pain free. Not while she was here, not while that man was still alive.  
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t summon enough anger to phase. Once and again she berated her past-self. If she hadn’t been so cowardly Lytham and Othar would have taught her how to control her magic. Instead they encouraged her reclusive nature, and allowed her education to slip through the cracks.  
She took a deep breath. Blaming her brothers was definitely not a good idea. If she went down the path of self-pity, the game was already lost. It was her own fault, her own desire to pick herbs in sunlit meadows that had led her to neglect the fire in her blood. She spent the best childhood possible under the gentle shade of Mirkwood, learning medicine and tending their garden. She smiled even now to remember the thrumming of her horse’s hooves as she raced after Igdan’s shaggy form. Nothing would make her regret it, not even this.  
Would she truly have been safer if she had chosen another path? Maybe, but she wouldn’t be the same person. Now, in this horrid place, the golden glow surrounding those memories seemed too bright. Still, despite her past, she needed the magic.  
The potion was surely gone from her system, and yet here she remained - a fragile human tied to a post in the centre of some smelly tent. She grit her teeth, wallowing wouldn’t solve anything.  
It was morning again, how many days had passed she couldn’t tell. The last thing she remembered was fighting Melos, and passing out. She had woken up here, alone and thirsty. Her collection of wounds had been tended to, with sutures and salves and bandages. Enough to make her nose crinkle at the smell.  
She was exhausted, but they had secured her bonds too tight for her to even dream of moving. Sleep was out of the question while her body was calling so loudly for rest. So she waited, counting her breaths and trying to calm her mind.  
Yes, they were torturing her, but she had asked for it. She had egged him on, goaded the man and spat in his face. All in the name of defiance. So she couldn’t back down and she couldn’t give up. No matter what else they had in store for her, she had to remember that it was all for a reason. Melos was right, she had to keep her fire. If she gave in, even one centimetre, then they would win. She had to be stronger, braver, but most importantly, she needed to remember why she was putting herself through all this. She had to fight for Winnida and the others. For her people, because no one else would, no one else could. As far as she knew, they didn’t even know all of this was happening in the world.  
Light suddenly flooded the tent from behind her, and Ildrith flinched.  
“Good morning sunshine!”  
Ildrith almost groaned as she recognised Hefjorumm’s voice. He was happy again, not a good sign. Her guards appeared, untied the ropes and got her to her feet. She tensed, expecting each movement to tug on her various injuries. But the one holding her right side, the side with the knife wound, raised her gently. She peeked under his hood, it was the man from before, the kind one. Of course. She shook her head, and glared at Hefjorumm instead. They were all monsters.  
He was beaming, but his eyes were troubled, distracted even. She suppressed the urge to shiver. Something had changed.  
“Melos tells me you were most cooperative yesterday. I am pleased, despite your lack of form, he tells me you are capable. Your females lack control, so the phasing takes longer... Unfortunately, as I learnt last night, we no longer have the time. It was never supposed to be this way, I hope you understand. A raven came and the news it brought troubles me greatly. This is no longer about the arena, there are more important things afoot… However, it is still important to get you to phase. So fear not, one way or another it will come.”  
He turned round and left the tent. Ildrith slumped, it hurt so much to stand, but she would never show anything less than a steel spine in front of him. She struggled to process his words. What did he mean it was no longer about the arena? Was she free? No, because he still wanted her to phase for them. Why though?  
It took her a moment to realise that her guards hadn’t released her yet. She lifted her head and saw the tent doors flap open as Melos entered. He made a vague motion with his hand and the guards dropped her. Much to her annoyance, Ildrith’s legs buckled and she fell to her knees before him.  
Sweat gathered on her brow as she ground her teeth and looked up to meet his cold eyes. Melos, she admitted to herself, scared her more than any of the others. It wasn’t just that he was beyond her abilities to defeat, nor even the casual way in which he caused her pain. It was the sheer lack of interest he held in anything that happened to her. Yes he smiled and bantered, but through the sea of nightmares that plagued her hospital hours, Ildrith had come to realise that it was all empty. He was capable of anything, and her imagination was quite wild.  
She tried to stop her lip as it trembled. He simply smiled, and crouched before her. The guards left the room, and secured the flap closed behind them.  
They held their spears across the door, an ‘x’ to mark the spot where Ildrith was being held. A barrier to prevent any curious eyes from straying too close as the minutes ticked by. The guard who had ridden with her, the one with the kind heart who had stopped to brush his horse even as they stole a princess from her home. The Rhûnic guard with the soft heart gripped his spear, knuckles whitening as he waited for the screaming to start.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
The moonlight passed softly through the clouds, pausing briefly to filter through the dense forest and land unevenly in the tracks of four bears as they paced the woods. A lone elf sat high in the branches of a nearby tree. His grey eyes glared at the encampment that was just barely visible from this point.  
A full day after finding the place the soldiers had taken Ildrith, and they had done nothing. Legolas was growing impatient. They all were. Tirelessly they had chased her, across and way past familiar country, out into the wastelands near the Iron Hills. Whose name they knew solely because of the elf sitting in the tree.  
Now they must sit, and wait. For night to fall, and the guards to change their shift. A classic tactic, one that would prove effective once more. Ildrith’s brothers were the hardest to convince of course. They were terrified for their sister, but even through their fear they came to see reason. The fourth bear was a mystery, his name was Valdan, and he much preferred to stay phased. Legolas had met him on two legs only once, and that was because he needed help convincing Igdan and Lytham to avoid changing and barrelling their way into the encampment as soon as they had arrived.  
Othar sighed a lot, and rubbed the scars in his hair far too frequently. It fell to Legolas to break the news about the slavery he had discovered. Valdan and he had taken turns scouting while Othar, Igdan and Lytham explored a wider area, even going as far as the nearby villages. The elf was horrified to stumble across cages where Beornings and Humans alike were chained up and starving. He passed on the news, which led to a heated argument as Othar revealed that it had been happening for a long time.  
Legolas was shocked to learn that this bartering of lives had been going on since before Beorn’s own time. That there were some Humans who traded Beornings for sport, even to goblins in the dark ages. Othar had to admit that he thought it was a thing of the past. It was an evil and terrible part of history, but he had thought it was history.  
The elf simply looked sick, and grew ever quieter the longer they waited. He sat up in his tree now, waiting for a glimpse of Ildrith, catching only passing glances of Beornings being herded about and sorted into groups. He surmised that they were building up to some movement. Perhaps it would provide the perfect chance to free Ildrith, if the night went poorly.  
As he watched them, they started to load Beornings into cages atop horse drawn carts. His stomach dropped in dread. Each caravan was guarded by dozens of soldiers. It would be impossible for the 5 of them to rescue anybody. As the day progressed however, it became clear that Ildrith was not among those being moved. Legolas breathed a little easier as he watched the train of caravans set off into the distance. There was only a small handful of soldiers left in the camp. Barely fifty to his estimation. If Ildrith was still down there, she would be easy to free. Deep down though, he knew that it was not just about her any more.  
This whole mess was far worse than they could imagine, and the king would need to get personally involved. Peace with Rhûn could never be achieved with this sort of abhorrence at large. Legolas had already sent word to Aragorn concerning the Dúnedain, he couldn’t simply steal them for his own purpose. But he knew that as soon as Aragorn found out about all this, he would agree whole heartedly with the elf’s decisions.  
There was also a very small, selfish part of him that wanted Aragorn to arrive so that he could meet Ildrith. He shook his head at the juvenile thought, there were infinitely more important things to be worrying about right now. Once Ildrith was safe, and a treaty drawn out with the East, then he could concern himself with the opinions of his friends.  
Legolas played with the bark on the branch below him, how he longed for peace. Ildrith was such a breath of fresh air after the war. So innocent and alive! If he thought about it, he felt like he’d been fighting all of his life. Fighting to keep the Greenwood clear of vermin, fighting the dwarves, and then with the dwarves for their homeland. He fought for the ring, and the freedom of all Middle Earth. Now, just when all had calmed down and it seemed they would be at peace, he fought to free his heart.  
Galadriel’s gift was momentous, more than anyone had had time to consider. Few could hope to understand the significance until there was time to venture out into the forest and see it for themselves. Even just running out of the forest to follow the people who took Ildrith, Legolas had felt the difference. There was much to reflect upon. He just wanted Ildrith to be safe first.  
He wanted to get her out and then think about it properly, this needed time and careful consideration. When the inevitable confrontations occurred, he wanted Ildrith to be far away, preferably back in the Greenwood where no one could touch her. Before the negotiations began, before the whisper of war swept through the land, spreading panic in its wake, he wanted her safe.  
For now there was nothing he could do, nothing but sit, and watch, and wait.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Melos left her mid-afternoon, Ildrith curled her knees about herself, and lay shivering in the dust. They didn’t bother to tie her back up. She wasn’t going anywhere.  
She had no fight left in her as someone gently helped her up, leant her against the pole and brushed the hair from her eyes. Red streaks ran down her cheeks where tears mixed with dirt. Her eyes felt hollow as she watched the soft hands wipe away her blood.  
The kind guard knelt before her, a bowl of clean water and a towel between his legs. He was alone, and Ildrith wondered if he was even supposed to be there. His face was obscured by the ever present hood as he wrung out the cloth and moved to wipe her face.  
Ildrith cringed and looked away, she hadn’t the energy to fight him off, and he simply held her chin as he washed her. The water was warm, and the cloth smelt like fresh sheets. Ildrith couldn’t help the tears that spilled over onto her lap as the smell reminded her of home. The guard brushed away the wetness, and then set the cloth aside. He reached behind him, and held her head steady as he poured water down her throat.  
Ildrith coughed, and then drank deeply. When she was done, the guard gathered his things and stood to leave.  
“Thank you.” Ildrith mumbled quietly.  
He paused, and then left without a word.  
She gave the guard a moment’s further thought. What was he doing in such a vile place? His heart was so gentle, yet he was devoted to these people. How could he live with himself? To obey orders to beat and abuse slaves? To tie her up, and hold her in place while they tortured her body and soul. It didn’t make sense to her, and yet she felt bound to him somehow. The small kindness’s he had shown her stood out against the black expanse of recent memory.  
Ildrith sat, staring at nothing for a long time. Her tears never let up, they had found the one way to break her. Melos knew his art well, he warned her that she was not his first Beorning, now she understood the significance. He had pushed her to the limits before, when they were being kind. He gave her the chance to phase willingly, to enrage and make it her own choice. One way or another he kept saying. Turns out they only had enough time now for the other. Perhaps it was because he realised she couldn’t do it by herself anymore. Not wouldn’t, couldn’t. So he was taking away the choice, if only to speed up the whole process.  
When Melos returned, Ildrith looked up, surprised at the fear that spread from her gut. She didn’t think she was capable of feeling anything anymore. As he knelt before her, she bit her lip.  
“Please,” she whispered, “don’t…”  
He shrugged, ignoring her sobs as he reached forward to brush her cheek. “This is so much more fun the other way, but the boss is impatient. Close your eyes if you must. It will be over soon enough.”  
Ildrith scrunched her eyes shut, whimpering as icy tendrils crept over her skin. A spike of adrenaline pumped into her veins, and her eyes shot open. Fight or flight. She clawed at Melos as he loomed over her, gasping as he knocked her prone and pinned her against the ground. Her fingers may as well have been blades of grass as they tickled his skin. He simply stared into her eyes as her nails drew blood. With one hand, he snatched her flailing limbs and secured them above her head, she gasped again, and growled. The other hand brushed her cheek gently. He cupped her face like a lover and shifted his weight to hold her body still beneath him.  
Ildrith thrashed her head to the side, and tried desperately to wriggle out from his grasp. The ice crept up, over her shoulders towards her face. Melos jerked her head round and held her still until she met his eyes. For a glorious moment she was suspended in nothingness, no pain, no ice, nothing. Then her back arched, and small blood vessels burst in her eyes with the strength of her scream.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Legolas pulled his hood closer about his face as a sentry walked past. The torch light briefly illuminated the bush around him, and then faded away around a corner. The elf crouched closer to the ground and crept forward, his boots left no print in the mud even as he dug deep to leapt over the fence. He landed with equal silence on the other side, and pressed his back against the wall.  
Two dull thuds, followed by two more landed beside him. The Beornings’ breathing was too loud for his ears, but he acknowledged them with a glance before ghosting forward. They knew where she was, thanks to some shady information squeezed from a drunken former guard in the village. She would still be guarded, but with the encampment almost emptied in the afternoon, they all felt confident that no matter what, they would be able to fight their way through and free her.  
And so they moved, as wraiths in the night. Dodging the fires and leaping from shadow to shadow. As they came upon the back of her suspected tent, Othar and Valdan stood to either side of Legolas. They gazed out into the darkness with keen eyes, and then nodded to the elf.  
Legolas whipped out his knife and slit two lines in the canvas, just big enough for him to slip through. He paused just inside, and looked around carefully. There was no one in the room. Not even Ildrith, though he was not so sure that she wasn’t there before. The dirt was hard in places, crusty with dried blood. He moved forward carefully, something wasn’t right here, his skin was crawling.  
He took a shaky step forward, as his foot touched the ground, fires lit up all around him. Quicker than a whip, his bow was drawn, an arrow nocked and pointed straight at the heart of his assailant.  
His heart leapt to his throat, pure joy radiating through him as he recognised his attacker. Ildrith smiled and Legolas lowered his bow slowly in confusion. She looked alright, a bit bloodied up, but alive and standing. Her lips turned up in a crooked smile as she stood before him, wearing the same blue dress as the night they took her. He stepped forward, and then paused. The prickly feeling hadn’t faded, in fact if he was honest, his instincts were screaming at him to run. He studied her carefully for a second, trying to decide what was so wrong with the picture before him.  
Her hair was loose, and hung in luscious waves about her bloodied face. The dress was clean and freshly pressed, to contrast the dirt and muck covering the rest of her body. She was a study in contrast, but none of that bothered him as much as it should. There was something else…  
He held the bow and arrow steady in one hand, and with his other reached forward cautiously, to touch her cheek.  
“Ildrith?” He whispered.  
She reached up and touched his fingers. He decided then that it was in her eyes - the wrongness. They were empty, soulless. Abruptly, she stepped to the side, away from him, and a team of guards streamed through the door.  
Legolas jumped back, his bow raised once more. But they were standing too close to her, and there were too many to fight alone. Lytham, Igdan, Othar, and Valdan in his bear form rushed into the room, drawn by the sudden fire-light. Legolas stood back, and kept his bow drawn. Othar growled and stepped forward.  
“Let her go!”  
A Rhûnic man, dressed in his finest armour, filed in last. He clapped his hands together and beamed.  
“Welcome friends, I am so glad to see you all here safe and sound. We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come, weren’t we Ildrith?” He placed his hand on Ildrith’s shoulder briefly, and then knit his hands together before him.  
Legolas watched Ildrith, scared that she might react and get herself hurt. Her eyes hadn’t changed. She regarded them all with complete disinterest, not even turning to respond to the man as he addressed her.  
“Forgive me, my Lord’s. I am Hefjorumm.”  
“What is wrong with her? What did you do to Ildrith?” said Igdan, he tried to take a step forward, but Lytham pushed against his chest and held him back.  
“Wrong with her? Dear sweet Igdan, there is nothing wrong with her, nothing at all. In fact, thanks to my wonderful colleague here, I daresay she is perfect.”  
“You’ve done something to her! Tell me, and I will make your death quick.”  
Hefjorumm laughed once, and moved aside. Othar gasped and Valdan grumbled in warning as Melos strode into the tent. He came to stand quietly beside Ildrith, ignoring the grumbles and growls coming from the men. Legolas lowered his bow, releasing tension on the string so he could study the Beorning’s reactions.  
“Melos…” said Othar, his voice deepening as his form started to vibrate. He seemed to grow and fill the tent as pure unadulterated rage rolled off him in waves. Legolas was alarmed to note a tenor of fear thrumming in the oldest Beorning’s changing demeanour.  
The new man, with the manicured beard finally looked up as Othar spoke, his eyes sparkled and a faint smile touched his lips.  
“Hello Othar.”  
Igdan touched Othar’s trembling arm, pulling him round to face him. “Who is that?”  
“A traitor, a murderer, an oath breaker.” Igdan turned to look at Lytham, whose form blurred and changed even as he spoke.  
Legolas was pushed back, as Lytham’s new form filled the tent. The two bears snarled and snapped, waiting for Othar to give the command. The elf watched all this with growing trepidation. He brushed the feathers on the end of the arrow he had nocked, saying nothing, and trying to think of a way to get them all out alive.  
“What is going on?” Asked Igdan, more fear than anger in his voice as he looked to Othar.  
The Beorning trembled, but held his ground. As he opened his mouth to reply, Hefjorumm interrupted.  
“Allow me to explain, seeing as we are short on time. You see Melos here is like you. Yes, a skin changer, like yourself master Igdan. I acquired his services shortly before the war of the mountain. He has been most useful at… procuring information for me. Information, and of course, soldiers. Like your sister here.”  
He gestured again to Ildrith, who stared impassively at the scene as it unravelled. Melos cleared his throat, and Ildrith turned to look at him. He smiled sweetly, and held her gaze. Leaning down, he touched his lips to her ears. She listened impassively, and then her eyes darted briefly to her brothers and back. Melos smiled and stood up straight again. Ildrith tilted her head, he nodded once and she turned back to face her would be rescuers.  
Hefjorumm chuckled darkly, and swivelled round to leave the tent, accompanied by ten of the guards. Melos took a step back, and watched Ildrith with sickening delight. She took a step forward, and crouched down like a cat about to spring. Her lips curled back and a guttural growl rumbled deep in her chest. Then her form began to shiver and blur.  
Othar was the first to react, he turned round and pushed Legolas back out through the rip in the tent.  
“Get out of here.” He cried before turning back and phasing swiftly.  
Legolas stumbled back, he readied the arrow once more, and all Hell broke loose. The guards leapt into battle just as Ildrith phased. Her beautiful dress ripped in half and fluttered to the ground as she roared and pounced towards Lytham. Her great claws swinging wildly even as her teeth snapped for his throat.  
The elf watched this in horror, and then started to loose his arrows. The guards attacked all at once, but he managed to drop two of them to give Othar and Lytham time to phase. His view of the fight was obscured, but before long, the tent itself was ripped apart and two bears tumbled forth snarling and snapping for each other’s throats. One of the bears had silver claws, impossibly sharp and strong, imbued with the magic of the elves. They upended two of the braziers, and sparks flew high into the air, setting the campsite ablaze wherever they landed. The three other bears, Othar, Igdan and Valdan respectively tore into the remaining soldiers.  
The camp was mercifully bare, but Legolas still had his hands full as he fought off multiple guards at once. Soon he was overwhelmed, and had to cast his bow aside in favour of his short-swords. He allowed the men to push him back to where he could slay them without fear of hurting his friends, or vice versa.  
Othar ripped apart the seemingly endless swarms of guards who came at him, his main objective was to reach Melos, and slay the fiend once and for all. In all the chaos however, Othar could no longer sense him. Before long, they were all too busy fighting for their lives to worry about Melos, or Hefjorumm for that matter.  
Othar felt Igdan take an arrow to the thigh, and heard his howl of rage from across the camp. Valdan too was not faring well as he rushed to Igdan’s defence. Lytham had the worst of them all, as Ildrith assaulted him again and again with mindless fury. They could not feel her through the bonds of magic, and Lytham had to try very hard to defend himself, but also keep her from harm.  
Eventually, Othar heard the elf call to him in distress. He turned to see a pile of bodies around Legolas, but the elf made a gesture of panic, and retreat. Othar snarled, he knew that it was the only course of action, it made sense. But he loathed to leave Ildrith like this, in the hands of that slimy traitor. Split second decisions had to be made, to save his kin so they could fight another day.  
He slashed through the guard before him, spraying blood across a nearby canvass. Then he stood on his hind legs and roared into the sky. Igdan and Valdan replied in turn, and slowly they picked their way towards Legolas, who had scurried away and opened the gates. Now he stood atop the fence, firing arrows into the fray. When they were safely through, the guards stopped chasing them, and Othar snarled his command thrice more to Lytham, bidding him to leave their sister and run.  
Lytham finally howled in response, and the sound brought tears to Legolas’s eyes, so mournful was the tune. He somersaulted neatly from the wall and took off into the trees as the Beornings turned tail and galloped for cover. Lytham disengaged from his fight and raced to join them. Ildrith chased her brother, her eyes flat and black like a mindless beast. At the edge of the forest, Legolas paused to make sure Lytham made it out alright.  
Ildrith snapped at the larger bear’s hocks, until a cry rang out from beyond the wall. Ildrith skidded to a halt and snarled. Legolas watched in horror as a lone figure stepped from the smoke by the gate, and called her back to him. The bear shook her head, and shrank in on herself. She slumped to the ground, and the black fur lengthened to become a waterfall of locks that shone in the firelight, and cascaded down Ildrith’s naked back.  
She stood when she was once more in human form, and stared into his eyes. Despite Melos’s beckoning, she paused and glared at the elf. Her skin was dirty and scarred, wounds, old and new, oozed dark red blood that dripped to the ground and soaked into the mud by her feet. Her jet black hair danced in the faint breeze, covering part of her face.  
Legolas couldn’t help but feel drawn to her, even as she curled her lips back in a feral snarl, exposing her elongated canines like fangs. She was glorious, like a goddess of war standing on the field of victory.  
Her fingers curled and twitched as she turned on her heels and strode back towards the burning encampment. Legolas watched her go with a heavy heart, praying that she wasn’t lost to him forever. Melos smiled, and winked at Legolas as the gate swung closed once more, trapping them out.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
They ran for a long time, long enough to find shelter at the base of a small hill in the forest. Legolas searched the craggy outcrop while the Beorning’s shifted back into human form and changed into their sparse clothing. He found a little clearing where they might take some rest and tend to any injuries the night had given. He whistled for them to join him when he was sure it was safe, and set about cleaning his bow and short-swords.  
Slowly they stumbled into their new camp. Legolas gave them a moment to settle down and get comfortable. Then he rested one sword on his knee and looked up.  
“I think explanations are needed.”  
Othar sighed and buried his face in his hands. “What am I supposed to say elf?” He rubbed his hand through his hair and gestured back the way they had come. “How was I supposed to know this would happen?”  
Legolas narrowed his eyes and remained silent. Othar glared at him, and then scrubbed his eyes wearily.  
“Melos was dead, I killed him myself, many years ago. The slavers haven’t been heard of since before the battle of five armies, and then I was a boy! This is all wrong, Rhûn has much to answer for.”  
Igdan hissed, and held his injured leg, “That they do, I agree, but so do you!”  
Legolas looked up, and his mouth popped open in surprise, “Me?” Igdan nodded. “You cannot be serious, what have I done?”  
“She was taken from under your nose elf!” He snarled attempting to stand.  
Lytham touched his shoulder briefly. The small action was strong enough to push Igdan back down, where he cringed and clutched the wound on his thigh. Lytham sat beside him and silenced him with a look, he calmly started tearing strips from the bottom of his own trousers, and then tied them about the wound for a makeshift bandage.  
Legolas seethed, and looked back to Othar. “Whatever judgement you think you hold… No, it matters not. Tell me what he did to her.”  
Before Igdan could protest, Othar answered. “Do you remember how she was in the woods? Did she tell you what she felt? When the darkness took her?”  
Legolas frowned, thinking back to her half mumbled words when he found her. The voices in her head, telling her to give in to the darkness. He had thought it was a remnant of Sauron, perhaps Saruman, wherever he had disappeared off to. Now he thought not.  
“She spoke of voices in the dark. That someone was causing her pain, while she was trapped inside the magic. Is that what has happened? Speak clearly if you know!” Legolas cried out, distressed to think Ildrith was trapped in her own mind, burning, and they could not save her.  
“It is similar, but not as cruel as that. Well, maybe more cruel, but in a different way.” He sighed and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. “Within our culture, there are folk who we say get taken by the darkness. When they change, they are drawn in by blood-lust and power. It is a temptation we all face, but still a choice for us all. Only those who are truly evil would make such a decision. To make that choice is to severe the connection with humanity and nature. With their very souls in fact, and become a creature of darkness. Still in control of their actions, but unable to see the evil such a choice creates.”  
Legolas bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowed in sorrow but it was Igdan who gasped, “No, I do not believe it, if that is truly what has happened then it was not from free will. They must have forced her, tortured her. You saw how she looked!”  
“Hush Igdan.” Said Lytham, squeezing the man’s shoulder once more.  
Valdan was silent. He looked at the ground and played with the sand, picking it up and letting it drain slowly through his fingers. Lytham stood, and moved to sit beside him instead. Legolas waited patiently for Othar to continue.  
“As I said, there are those who make this choice freely. Drawn by blood-lust and greed. Then there is Melos. He is a soul-reaver. When he was a boy, he made the choice for power. He was taken by the dark lord, or that is what we assume. Whether it is true or not only he knows. Either way some evil leant him more power than he could ever desire. It gave him the ability to bend others of our kind to his will. For years he lived among us, for we did not know that he had given himself over. To our eyes he seemed too young for the choice to even be before him yet. So he stole into the hearts of our kind in secret. By the time we realised what was happening, it was too late. He had amassed a small army.  
“The battle was bitter; I was but a lad. Only seventeen at the time. By some freak chance, I managed to defeat him. Those he had turned then either fled or were destroyed in the battle. In his dying breaths, he cursed me, and my kin. So I twisted my sword, and we burnt his body to be sure of his death. It is not possible for him to be alive. Thus I cannot tell you what he has done to her for in truth I can only guess it is the same thing he did to the others.”  
“What will happen to her?” Asked Legolas.  
Othar shrugged, “I have no more answers for you. No one survived from that time. Once we make the choice, it is not possible to come back. At least, I have never heard of it being done. But perhaps if she was forced... I just don’t know. The elves might know more in fact, as it is the same as your ‘fading’ in our minds.”  
Legolas closed his eyes. He refused to believe it. She could not just be… gone. Aragorn would know what to do.  
“No,” whispered Igdan, “it cannot be. I said we would help her, Lytham…” His voice broke and he slumped to the ground. “She never wanted this, Lyth, she was so scared…”  
The younger sibling stood and paced the clearing. He bit his knuckles and then swung his fist blindly and hit the rock before him. He cried out, and then punched it three more times. When he turned back round his hands were bleeding, and his face was haunted.  
“I couldn’t feel her Othar. It was like… Like fighting an orc. She wasn’t there. There was nothing there.” He sank to his knees, and buried his face in his hands.  
Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart ached for Lytham, who bore many a deep gash from his own sister. He noticed again, the sword that his father had given him, hanging uselessly from his side. Even so armed, there was nothing he could have done. Yet she walked away from the fight with nary a scratch from his claws. He searched each man’s face, they were hopeless and helpless. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand and closed his eyes.  
As an impartial third party observer, silence was the best option. The way he felt could never be known. How much grief was he allowed to show?  
Valdan was watching him carefully. He opened his eyes, and met the Beorning’s curious gaze. The answer was none. He would be the impassive observer, here to help with no personal investment beyond that which a wood elf would normally show towards their friends.  
Legolas got to his feet. “Come, we cannot linger here.”  
“Do you suggest we abandon her to this fate?” Igdan spat.  
“We must go back, to gather our strength, and formulate a real plan. This is bigger than any of us knew, and it is not about her anymore. Nay, turn your anger somewhere else, you know it to be true! Lytham, you have been given a regimen of hardened soldiers - Silvan and Beorn alike. We are going to need them. Othar, your people come with the Dúnedain rangers, both must be prepared. They have been summoned and we cannot let them walk into this blindly. We can do no more here, and we know where they are going, that train left a trail as wide as a river! Even if a week passes, we will be able to find her again.”  
“I will stay.” Said Valdan.  
Lytham looked up, an unreadable expression in his eyes, he studied the strange man, and then nodded slowly.  
“Yes. It is a good idea. Igdan, you must stay too. Because I know you well friend, and it will give you time to heal. Watch from a distance. Don’t let them see you, but follow them if they go. Keep her always in your sight.”  
Lytham jumped to his feet, and brushed the dirt from his pants, he walked to Othar and held out a hand.  
“Come brother, you know he is right.”  
Othar looked up, his eyes hard but red rimmed. He stared at Lytham for a long while, and wordlessly they spoke. Eventually, he helped Othar to his feet, and they walked a little ways away to strip and phase.  
Legolas unstrung his bow and secured it on his back. He sheathed his short swords, and tried very hard to ignore the sick feeling that was growing ever stronger at the thought of leaving. When the two bears returned, Legolas rolled his shoulders and prepared to run. Igdan stopped him with a hand.  
“Forgive me my lord, what I said before... It was in anger, I know the fault lies not with your people.” He stepped closer and dropped his voice further. “I understand what this means for you, to have to leave her. I swear to you that no harm will befall her while I stand watch. Return swiftly, and we will end this together.”  
Legolas watched him out of the corner of his eye, carefully masking his surprise. He nodded once, and touched Igdan’s shoulder briefly. Othar and Lytham were already running, so he raced away to catch up.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………


End file.
